Dragon Age: The Way Home
by beanball
Summary: The climax to the Trials of Cousland series. Two years after the Inquisition, The Warden has gone missing and it's up to Morrigan to use all her wits to save him from the strange beyond he's trapped in. Someone took his mind and the life he knew. But the Witch isn't giving up on her love without a fight. He saved her from the vile creature she once was. Now it's her turn.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter I**

Alone. If there was one word to describe just how Morrigan felt anymore, that would be it. The events of the Inquisition were two years past, but to the witch, it might as well been a lifetime ago. Ever since her beloved Grey Warden departed on a quest to rid himself of the taint that lay dormant in his body, Morrigan felt as though the largest part of her was missing.

Grey Wardens are tasked with the most unenviable jobs: to stem the tide of the Blights which roll across the lands of Thedas and to slay the Archdemon; for as fate would decree, or perhaps it was the wishes of the gods, only a true Grey Warden can kill an Archdemon. But the taint that coursed through the veins of her love and gave him his ability was also a slow and agonizing death sentence. Inevitably, the Calling would come to The Warden and he would embark for the Deep Roads in order to meet his end in combat against the corrupted darkspawn or else suffer an even more horrifying fate of madness and death.

While the witch was loathe to see her husband embark on his journey without her, the chance of success far outweighed any costs. Indeed, it was she who urged him to go. She was even the one to find the first clues as to where he should start looking. Thus, he set out looking for a way to cleanse, not only himself, but all wardens. That was more than four years ago.

At first, things weren't bad at all. Morrigan even enjoyed the time alone more far more than she thought she was going to. It had been ages since she'd had any length of time to herself and she found it to be relaxing. Not to mention her hope and optimism that someday soon she and her warden would be able to live out long lives together quashed any feelings of loneliness that tried to force its way through. Her love was the Hero of Ferelden, after all. He'd conquered so many foes and saved so many lives that there was no way to count them. Surely his current task was not beyond his capabilities.

The two would write to each other often. He would give updates as to the status of his endeavors while she would tell him about the affairs back home. Neither of them would shower the other with words of love and affection; instead preferring to generally keep to the topic at hand. That wasn't to say that either didn't convey how much they missed the other, one just needed to read between the lines to get the implied intent. It was how Morrigan preferred it, lest prying eyes find their way into she and her warden's private correspondence.

And, often to the witch's dismay, it wasn't as if she was ever really alone. People would come calling to check up on the witch and her children nearly every single day. Morrigan knew it was at the behest of her warden that they did so. How very much like him, she would think to herself. But she endured the visits as gracefully as she could muster. Fortunately, they never stayed too long.

Usually it was Teyrn Fergus, The Warden's older brother, but others would stop by as well. The flame-haired bard, Leliana, paid a couple of visits and even King Alistair once when he was in Highever on official royal business. Admittedly, the witch even thought it was pleasant to see them. Although, Leliana's final visit did end in such a way that it made Morrigan shudder. It was something she refused to think about. It wasn't that Morrigan was angry with the bard, but no one could ever know of what happened between them. It was beyond her control, she told herself, and left it at that.

Soon, though, the letters from her warden began arriving less often. As time dragged on and her love was away, the pit in her stomach began to grow ever larger. It became almost like a torture to have to sit at her table and put pen to paper. The task only served to remind her that he wasn't there and that she would be alone once more in their large bed that night. The entire situation became maddening.

Day in and day out she was forced to look at the same walls of their small cottage by the river. He'd been gone over a year and by this time the witch missed her husband desperately. If she wrote to him and told him what she felt, he would, of course, stop what he was doing and instantly return home to her. She knew this. But she had to be stronger than that. Morrigan would forever curse her weakness if her feelings caused him to fail in his mission. If being away from him now meant she could have him for longer in the future, then she just had to deal with it.

But such thoughts did little to make things easier. If the witch was forced to endure one more day staring at the same four walls she would go completely mad. She needed to get out. She had to get away. She needed to leave and go as far from Highever as her feet would take her. That's when an idea popped into her head.

Morrigan had heard rumors that the court of Orlais was in need of an arcane advisor. Better still were the whispers that Empress Celene sought out knowledge forbidden to the Chantry mages of the Circle. It was something that Morrigan was uniquely qualified for. Being an apostate gave the witch insights into certain aspects of magic that few, if any, in the Circle of Magi would ever have been given access to. Better still, her warden was a member of the Cousland family which meant that she could freely move among the highborn of Ferelden.

Ever since the Blight, when Morrigan was forced from her home in the wilds and into the world of men, the witch had to learn a great many things. The greatest among these lessons was the true nature of love and everything it entailed. But another skill she gleaned from The Warden was how to behave among the nobility. She remembered a time when the servants at Arl Eamon's estate in Denerim looked upon her as though she were nothing but a lowly savage; a well spoken savage, but a savage nonetheless. She didn't know or understand the rules. Now, however, she was a member of one of the most powerful families in all Ferelden, outside of King Alistair. And even he would be wary to oppose the Couslands. Their lands covered more than a third of the country and contained numerous bannorns and arlings within their borders.

What all this meant was Morrigan would be able to endear herself to the Empress' court as one of their own. That was the idea, anyway. In truth, the stories she'd heard of the Court of Orlais and their internal dealings with one another, a ritual known as 'The Game', was something she hadn't been subjected to before. While Ferelden politics certainly had its fair share of secrets, backstabbing, and intrigue, at the end of the day things tended to be fairly straightforward. Not so in Orlais. But she was confident in her abilities as a mage and reasoned that she could just adapt to the rest. She reckoned that the hardest part of the entire plan was telling Fergus she was leaving.

If Morrigan knew her warden, she could be certain that he told his brother to take care of his family while he was away. And being like The Warden in many ways, Teyrn Fergus intended on doing exactly as requested, but at a distance. Fergus had grown to know the witch quite well and knew she enjoyed her space. While he wasn't willing to risk her ire, he made sure she was well looked after.

So naturally the teyrn objected to Morrigan's plans when she did tell him. He did his best to use reason and logic to sway the witch with his argument. His words did little to assuage Morrigan, however. She was determined to leave on her fool's errand and there was nothing he could do to stop it. Normally, she could be persuaded with a logical argument, even if she did cast a menacing glare towards the offending person. But not this time. This time the look in her empty eyes informed the teyrn just how much she missed her husband and needed to find some relief from the continual agony.

She did at least agree to one of Fergus' request: the three youngest children would stay behind with him at his castle. He told her that they were far too young to attempt crossing the Frostback Mountains into Orlais. And while he made no mention of it, the teyrn also hoped that by leaving her children with him she would long for home and return all the sooner. Not only was he concerned his brother would hold him accountable for what happened to Morrigan, but he also held a fondness for the witch and didn't wish to see her harmed. Fergus felt as though his brother was truly lucky to find someone like her.

"Lucas, you shall be in charge of your sisters until I return. Is that understood?" Morrigan informed her younger son who was barely seven years old at the time. "I want you to watch over them and be all the things a big brother is meant to be." she finished while bending over and placing a gentle kiss on top of his head.

"Why does Seth get to go and I don't?" the boy exclaimed, feeling more than a little frustrated at being left out. "'Tis not fair!"

Morrigan chose not to acknowledge her son's outburst and instead turned her attention to her two small daughters: Penelope who was six and Erin who had just turned four. "Mind yourselves while I am away." she told them. "I shall return soon, my darlings."

It was extremely difficult for the witch to leave her children behind. But heading to Val Royeaux and the Empress' court was something she felt she had to do in order to maintain her sanity. She knew that Fergus would care for her children as if they were his own. He cherished his nephews and nieces and made no secret of it. But that didn't make leaving them any easier. Still, she knew that the teyrn was right. It would be unfair of her, not to mention dangerous, to drag her three youngest along with her while she escaped her misery.

And so Morrigan found her hunch had been correct. Celene was interested in the services only the witch could provide. It wasn't always easy, but it was far better than sitting at home in her humble cottage and wallowing in her own self-pity while she awaited the return of her warden.

After a time, it became clear to Morrigan that her services to the empress where nearing their eventual end. She and Seth had spent just over a year in the heart of the Orlisian Empire, but it was time to move on. Fortunately for the witch, another opportunity became available almost as soon as she decided to leave Celene's court.

At the time, it was known throughout all Thedas that the darkspawn magister known as Corypheus was a great danger to everyone. He was intent on entering the fade in physical form and storming the Black City to have its throne as his own. Indeed, he even claimed to be one the very magisters who first set foot into the city all those centuries ago. Morrigan could not verify Corypheus' stories, but she did know one thing for certain: even if he wasn't able to sack the Dark City, the attempt alone could ravage the world. She was determined that wouldn't be the case. The crazed darkspawn magister could never be allowed to enter the fade at any cost.

So Morrigan joined the ranks of the Inquisition. She would serve as an arcane advisor to its leader, Inquisitor Trevelyan. Together, they would defeat Corypheus at every turn. It was a time that the witch very much enjoyed, although she made no indication of it. It's wasn't that she reveled in the death and destruction such world shaking events tend to bring about, but it brought back feelings of her time during the Fifth Blight. It made her feel a part of something grand, something special. She was reminded of the creature she was when she first met her warden and the long road she had taken since. Somehow, it made him feel closer to her even though he couldn't be there in the flesh. She knew that he would be proud of her, and although she would never tell a single soul, that thought alone meant everything to her.

And with the defeat of Corypheus, Morrigan and her son returned to Highever. She had been away more than a year and very much longed to see her children again. She feared that she missed so much about them that they would hardly recognize her at all. And best of all, her love had given every indication that his search was drawing to a close. The last letter he had written her gave her hope that soon she would see his smiling face again and that this time, they would be together for many years to come.

But the hope soon faded to despair. The letter she received from him at Skyhold while working with the Inquisition would be the last thing she heard about her husband. For two years Morrigan tried in vain to deal with the emotions and emptiness that bombarded her. She finally came to the realization that, for whatever reason, he wasn't coming back to her. It would be best if she just moved on with her life. But her love for him would not fade. All she desired was to be with her husband again, if even for the briefest of moments. But even that was denied her.

As word of The Warden's disappearance spread across the land, Ferelden mourned the loss of its hero. King Alistair even erected a statue to him on the very spot in Denerim where he'd slain the archdemon. The king had lost his best friend. The teyrn of Highever had lost his brother. A nation had lost its hero. But it was Morrigan who grieved hardest of all. She felt as though she would never know what took her warden from her. And not knowing was the worst form of torture that exists.

The Warden was no ordinary man. He'd done things that most men couldn't have even dreamt of accomplishing. Whatever it was that caused his demise must have been a great foe, indeed. But unbeknownst to the witch, forces were aligning themselves. Some in her favor, some against.

If there was an all-knowing Maker, perhaps he did hold some form of fairness. For in the coming weeks and months, Morrigan would get her chance to set things right, but it would prove to be the single hardest struggle she'd ever known. But as they say, every journey starts with but a single step; or in this case, a knock at the door…

"Who goes there?" was the witch's reply. She was in the middle of separating her girls' laundry for the week's wash when the knock came.

"I have a letter for Lady Morrigan" a frail sounding voice on the other side of the door answered. "I'm told it's urgent."

The witch grumbled and walked toward the door. She didn't enjoy being interrupted, especially when some peddler or beggar came knocking. Her hand reached for the latch and gave the handle a quick turn to open it. "I am rather busy and have little time for games." she said as she swung the door wide.

Once open, a small man was revealed to Morrigan. He had long gray hair and a slight build. But despite his appearance, the witch didn't think he looked malnourished or sickly. He was just a small older man. "No games, my lady." he said. "This letter came for you and I was instructed to deliver it straight away."

The messenger held out an envelope to the witch. She could plainly see the large wax seal that held it closed, although she didn't recognize the seal, itself. It certainly wasn't one Fergus or Alistair had ever used.

She snatched the envelope for the small man's hand and looked at it. Ever since her warden had gone, there had been little reason for the throngs of his admirers to visit or send letters. The letter's origin was a complete mystery to her.

"Ahem." the old man cleared his throat as he held out his hand. "It is a long way out here from the village, my lady." he said. "My old bones don't make these trips like they used to."

"Yes, of course." the witch replied, although she was still focused more on the letter than the man. She reached into her apron and pulled three gold coins from within the pocket, which she dropped into the old man's hand.

The small man plucked his dusty hat from his head and clasped it in his gnarled hands as he bowed in gratification. "Thank you, my lady. Maker watch over you." he said as he began to back away from the door, which Morrigan had already begun closing.

Once back behind the door, the witch cracked the wax seal with her thumb nail and opened the letter as quickly as she could. Her curiosity was greatly piqued by what the envelope contained within. She knew she was probably in for a letdown, but that didn't stop her from pulling the letter from its sheath and opening the folded paper with great interest.

As she read the words, her hand went to cover her mouth to stifle a gasp that was escaping. Of all the letters she ever expected to receive, this would have never been one of them. She read the words over and over again to make sure she was reading it correctly. At first her reaction was one of disbelief, but there was something within she couldn't deny; something only _he_ had said to her. Morrigan dropped to her knees, her hand covering her face, and began to sob.

_Your warden is alive but he isn't where he's supposed to be. They've trapped him there. Only you can get him back from where he is. Meet me tomorrow night by the dark temple that you hate. He made me promise._

_A friend of The Warden_

_P.S. He told me to tell you your handwriting looks like shit._


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter II**

The next day went by with an agonizing slowness that always seems to occur when one is desperately and anxiously awaiting something exciting or important. It felt as though it dragged on and on while the sun hovered steadily in the sky with no intent of ever setting.

The previous night found Morrigan awake in her bed, tossing and turning restlessly as sleep eluded her. Her mind refused to quiet itself and continually flooded her with unwanted images and thoughts. She tried her best to calm her nerves by telling herself that the letter was merely someone's idea of a twisted and perverse joke, although who would play such a prank, the witch couldn't even begin to conceive.

Invariably, she would argue with herself. "_But what if the letter was genuine? " _ she would think. But almost immediately she would try to force such thoughts away as ridiculous and childish. Unfortunately, though, the foolish notions wouldn't leave her be. They always sprang back into her head no matter how hard she tried to drive them away. She wanted desperately to believe that the letter was real. She so craved the one thing she hadn't had in a very long time: hope. She resolved that at the very least she would go to the place the letter mentioned at the appropriate time and teach whatever tricksters she found there a valuable lesson they wouldn't soon forget.

But those words. Those damned words at the bottom. To anyone else it might have been a random bit of nonsense, but Morrigan knew better. It was far more than just an arbitrary string of words. Those words, while unassuming to most anyone else, were the crux of the entire problem.

Her warden had often poked fun at her for the rather unladylike quality of her penmanship skills, or rather, lack thereof. While his was no masterpiece of workmanship, to be sure, Morrigan carried herself in such an elegant and sophisticated manner that one would hardly expect her handwriting to be as it was. It wasn't as though it was unreadable, by any means, it was just awkward-looking.

It wasn't as though the witch didn't try to improve her skills with a pen, but try as she might, there never seemed to be any progress in her efforts. Although, truth be told, she was working at a disadvantage; one she continually reminded her warden of. Morrigan is left-handed, and as such, trying to perform perfect swoops and curls with her letters was nearly impossible. She often felt as if she was going against the grain.

That was the entire reason the final line of the note she received caught her attention in the manner it had. Her love would have known it would have the desired effect, and thus prove the letter's authenticity. No one else knew her like he did. He was aware of just how to prod his witch into action. She had always felt incensed by his ability to cut right through her tough outer shell, but perhaps just this once, it may have been the exact thing that was needed.

So Morrigan decided that she would investigate the matter further. She reasoned that it was best not to get her hopes up and approach the entire situation with a healthy dose of skepticism. But if there was even the tiniest of remote chances that her love was indeed alive and needed her aid and she failed to act when given the opportunity, she would carry that guilt with her to her grave.

The temple mentioned in the note wasn't hard to guess. It was obviously the old temple south of Highever that was once used by the Order of Bohlen. Fergus ordered that the building be locked tight but it would remain intact to serve as a reminder of the havoc and destruction the Order caused when it razed Highever to the ground ten years previous.

But there was a more personal reason that Morrigan hated that temple. Every time she saw it, or even thought of it, rage bubbled up from her gut and threatened to erupt forth at those around her. The temple stood as a constant reminder that the Black Warden had stolen her son and used him like bait against The Warden. Although the Black Warden was slain and Seth recovered by his parents, it did little to quell the seething rage the witch had over the matter. Some fires never burn out, especially ones fueled by pure hatred.

It was another important clue about the letter. The Warden was aware of his witch's feelings on the matter, thus making the temple an obvious choice for a meeting place. She would hate it with every fiber of her being, but she would come. That was the important part.

The witch was forced to admit to herself that the note was looking more authentic the more thought she put into it. At the very least, if the letter was a fake, then whoever composed it knew things about her only The Warden would know. That meant they would know her love's whereabouts, or at least have had intimate dealings with him. Whatever the case, Morrigan resolved to get to the heart of the matter. If the letter was a fake, then she would most likely destroy whatever unfortunate soul had been sent to meet her. If the letter was real…well that wasn't something the witch was ready to entertain just yet.

At long last, night stretched its dark fingers across the land and Morrigan readied herself to make the journey. She instructed her eldest to watch over his younger siblings while she was away. If anything was to happen, they were to make for the castle and wait there for their mother.

Morrigan reckoned that the entire outing should take no more than an hour or so. She would fly there in her bird-form, meet with whomever was coming, then fly back to the cottage. She was confident Seth could look after the others for that long. He was growing up so fast and so very much like his father. He was almost a teenager now and resembled The Warden more with each passing day. She kissed the top of his head and playfully ruffled his hair before making her way out the door and into the night.

There wasn't a cloud in the sky as the witch soared across the lush plains outside the village. In the distance, she could spot the fires of Castle Cousland lighting up the night, their white and yellow dots casting a haze of light into the sky. While over in Highever most of the villagers made ready to turn in for the evening. Smoke puffed from a few of the stone chimneys of the various shops and houses, while in the homes that dotted the countryside, candles were extinguished, one-by-one, as each window gradually went dim. It seemed from the witch's vantage point as if Highever itself was yawning, stretching, and getting ready for a good night's rest.

But the serenity didn't last nearly long enough for the witch's liking, for all too soon she arrived at her destination. The calming feeling she got from riding the currents of air was quickly replaced by memories she despised. While what happened to her son was done away from the temple, it still served as a dark reminder of those troubling times. Even though the building was falling into ruin and derelict, Morrigan was unable to subdue the memories that always came when she thought about this place.

With careful and quiet steps, the witch began to search around the area to see if the mysterious author of the note had made their arrival. But from what she could tell, she was alone. Other than the sounds of the chirping and buzzing insects that one usually encounteres on a summer's night, there was nothing.

"Shit." she muttered to herself. She should have known that it was all just a ruse. She was aware that the entire thing could have been nothing more than someone's idea of a joke, yet a large part of her still held out hope that there was some truth to it. A far larger part than the witch realized as a wave of intense sorrow began to crawl its way over her. She had been a damned fool.

Then, without any sort of warning, a voice spoke to her. "Are you she?" it asked.

Morrigan's head popped up, alert. She clearly heard the words, but couldn't tell from where they came. "I am Morrigan, if that is whom you seek." she replied.

"It is." the voice answered. "I was hoping you'd come, though I didn't know for sure."

Her eyes began to peer into the darkness and try to catch a glimpse of any form or movement, though she couldn't see any. "Are you the one who sent me the letter?" she asked. "If so, I would prefer that you show yourself so that we may speak. "'Tis difficult to have a conversation otherwise."

Her words were met with the soft rustle of leaves accompanied by the sound of bushes shifting, as if someone or something were climbing out from within them. Upon hearing the noise, Morrigan instinctively raised her arm and a blue-green spark burst forth from her open palm, bathing the immediate area in an eerie glow. The light pushed back the darkness enough to allow the witch to see a small, slender form approaching her. It had long flowing blonde hair that stretched down below the shoulders. The eyes were sharp and well defined. But most telling of all were the ears, which curved up into sharp, pointy tips.

"You are Dalish." the witch noted. "Not at all what I expected."

The elf looked at her with an odd sense of surprise on its face. "I'm Dalish?"

"Elven." she reiterated, oddly feeling the need to do so.

"Ah." the elf said while giving a nod. "I don't know what that is."

The witch shook her head at the strange little man. "Do you have a name, then? What am I to call you?"

"I used to have a name, before they took it from me. I don't have one anymore. Others just call me Lock now."

The only thing Morrigan could do was stare quizzically at the odd creature before her. She had noted that some of the wording of the letter she received did seem a bit off, although she never would have figured the person who wrote it would seem as equally off. Perhaps it would just be best to get down to business, she figured. "Well, Lock, you said you knew the whereabouts of The Warden, did you not?"

The elf nodded affirmative. "He said you would look for him if I told you. He made me promise."

There was a time when Morrigan would have little patience for a person she felt was being indirect with her or just flat out wasting her time. But motherhood taught her that sometimes the direct approach and losing one's temper might not always be the best plan of action. So as she had seen her warden do on more than one occasion, the witch decided to try patience. She tried to use the softest and soothing tone she could. "'Tis imperative that you tell me where The Warden is so that I may find him."

The slender elf seemed to think for a minute before he spoke again. Though, about what Morrigan could only guess. "He isn't here." was all Lock would reply.

"If he isn't here, he must be somewhere." the witch said, trying to sound as non-threatening and soothing as she could. "Where is he?"

Lock shook his head, saying as he did, "You don't understand. He's not here!" The elf was growing more visibly anxious with each word. "They caught him. Malachi said he desecrated their holy place and that he needed to be punished. I was the first, but it didn't work on me. But it worked on him!"

"Your words make little sense. Perhaps 'tis best if you start from the beginning."

Lock let out a long sigh. He was trying his hardest to get the witch to understand but she just couldn't see it even though it was right in front of her face. "I was the first. They caught me…I think they caught me. I don't remember." he started to explain. "But they wanted to make a lesson of me, so they tried to put me into another place, a place you can't come back from. But the magic didn't work right. It just made me real sick feeling. That's how they took my name. They took _me _from me."

At last the witch felt she was starting to understand what the strange elf was telling her. "The spell went afoul and you were injured, is that it?" she asked.

"Not a spell. A reflection. A reflection on the wall. They made it for something, but I don't know what."

"A reflection? Put you someplace?" Morrigan asked while she turned what Lock said over and over in her head. Then, like a streak of light out of the sky, it dawned on her. "An _eluvian_!" she exclaimed.

Now it was all starting to make sense to her. All the pieces weren't there yet, but things were starting to fall into place. "Are you telling me this Malachi sent The Warden through an eluvian?"

"I don't know what that is." he replied. "All I know is that he was my friend. He helped me when everyone else was mean."

The witch rolled her eyes and shook her head. She was well aware of her husband's propensity for endearing himself to those around him. There were many such souls throughout Ferelden whom The Warden had befriended in a similar fashion to Lock. "How very much like him." she noted.

Though Lock's methods of telling her may have been strange, she felt she knew what he was saying to her now. The note he sent her had been real, after all. A wave of relief washed over the witch, almost like she had awoken from a deep dream where the world around her had become almost surreal and where nothing was in its proper place. There was reason to hope.

"Can you lead me to this _reflection_?" she asked.

Once more, Lock nodded affirmative. "They move it from place to place, but they don't have the key. I took it when I left because he made me promise. You can only find it if you have the key."

Despite her best efforts, Morrigan felt excitement rising up inside her. She knew there was still much to Lock's story that she didn't know, but nearly everything he was telling her made complete sense. If this Malachi did send her warden through an eluvian, that would explain a great deal. It would be one of the few things he was ill-equipped to handle without her help. It would also explain how he seemingly vanished from Thedas without a trace, because he quite literally did just that.

"Do you know how or where we might use this key you posses?" she inquired, feeling more hopeful than she had in a very long time.

"I know where, but I don't know how." Lock replied with his flat manner. "He said you would know how to use it. I just had to get it to you."

The elf opened the flap on a pouch he had slung over his shoulder and fished around inside. Upon finding what he was after, he pulled his hand out and held it out toward Morrigan, saying as he did so, "only this key can open the reflection. If they find out you have it, they'll want it back."

"Then we must ensure we are successful." the witch responded as she took the object from his outstretched hand.

She eyed the object in her hand carefully. It was a shiny, cylindrical-shaped object that had a large, deep red stone embedded in one end. The stone had a faint glow about it the pulsed every few seconds. The opposite end appeared as if it was meant to fit into something, although Morrigan couldn't tell quite what that might be. Still, the witch found there was a certain beauty and elegance to the object. It certainly was skillfully crafted.

"There is a place to the east where the key will work. It's one of many places the key will work. But only there can you find where he is. He isn't at the other places and you need to find him where he is. He made me promise." the elf informed in his unusual manner while Morrigan eyed the key closely.

"Then we must make preparations to leave as soon as possible." the witch stated, adding, "I need to make arrangements with the teyrn. We shall meet here again tomorrow at noon and depart then."

Lock nodded slightly, saying as he did, "until tomorrow, then."

And with those final words, the elf slipped back into the shadows and was gone. Just as before, there was no clue or trace of Lock's presence. Morrigan felt that if the elf was a rogue, then he may very well have been the most skillful one she'd ever met. And having no further business to conduct in this horrid place, the witch raised her arms over her head and assumed bird-form once more. She launched herself into the air and allowed a gust of wind to catch under her wings and carry her back to the cottage.

Unlike the previous night, the witch felt a calmness that she hadn't experienced in a very long time. She was confident her abilities could somehow unlock the key and use it to send her to where her warden was trapped. He would be there waiting for her, and everything would be put right. Morrigan fell into a deep restful sleep for the first time in ages.

The first part of her journey was about to begin, but as the witch would soon discover; just because one knows where the prize is, that doesn't mean the game is yet won. There are many strands that the universe weaves in its grand tapestry. However, some are far stranger and more frightening than anyone could ever imagine. Morrigan was about to experience this cruel fact firsthand. The fight to save her love will change everything the witch thought she knew about life, love, and even the nature of magic. There are some things one can never prepare for, no matter how much is at stake.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter III**

Morrigan and her new companion departed Highever as expected. The witch had made arrangements with the teyrn to look after her children while she was away, although for how long she couldn't be sure. It always bothered her to leave her children behind; something she felt she was often doing. No matter how she tried, there was always something that seemed to pull her away from her home. Each time it happened, the witch swore that it would be the last. But things just never seemed to work out that way.

At least the travel time wasn't really an issue, not since she learned to assume the form of a high dragon, anyway. In the past, it would take days or even weeks for Morrigan and her warden to trek the many miles they needed to cross in order to arrive at the desired destination. Now she could fly those same distances in just a matter of a few hours. And unlike her bird-form, the witch could soar far higher for far longer. It was an experience that she greatly relished, even if it occurred all too infrequently. Unfortunately, nearly every time she assumed her dragon-form, a panic would break out among those in Highever. So Fergus politely requested that Morrigan not do so when the villagers could see her. The witch reluctantly agreed.

As a compromise, the witch would travel far enough outside the village as to be unseen before taking her form and launching herself into the air. The only problem with that was high dragons are very large creatures and she needed to journey several miles away to avoid being spotted. It usually worked, although sometimes an odd traveler would see a sight that shook them to the core. And afterward, as always, rumors of high dragons coming to terrorize the populace would be spread at the local pubs.

On this occasion, however, Morrigan used the time to better understand the situation she was getting herself into. Although she found Lock's statements mostly confusing, if one were to take what he said and apply it to the entire story, the picture began to clear, at least a little. It still took the witch nearly the entire time they traveled on foot to properly ascertain what exactly had happened to her warden.

That wasn't to imply that everything Lock told her painted a clearer picture, in fact many of the things he said confused the witch even further than she already was. One of the most perplexing parts of the elf's story was his origins and how he even came to know her warden. Whenever she pressed Lock about the matter, the only answer he would give her was "I'm not from here. At least, I don't think I am." Morrigan found the entire exchange to be more than a little frustrating.

How this odd little man could know so little about the Dalish, a proud people steeped in history and culture, confounded the witch. She had never encountered anything like it in all her travels.

She was able to surmise, however, that her warden had stumbled upon this Malachi and his henchmen quite by accident. In his quest to be rid of the taint, he had often found clues that led him to various ancient ruins to explore. This instance was seemingly no different. Unlike before, though, The Warden found the particular elven ruins he was searching already had occupants; Malachi and his minions claimed the ruins as their own some time before The Warden's arrival. He was quite simply in the wrong place at the wrong time.

According the Lock, The Warden had been captured by Malachi's men and held for a time. While she couldn't be positive, it seemed as though some sort of spell was cast on him in preparation for his so-called imprisonment. It was during this time that Lock and her warden became acquainted with each other.

"They did something to him. It made him different. It got him ready." the elf offered.

Those chilling words sent a shiver down Morrigan's spine. She couldn't even begin to guess at what sort of vile and twisted magic they had used on her beloved. And the more she prodded Lock about what his meaning was, the less clear his answers became.

Of all the things the elf had told her, the part about him being changed somehow was the most terrifying to her. The witch as quite familiar with eluvians and their uses and she was quite confident that her experiences before would serve her well in rescuing her warden. But the part about him having been changed somehow. That was nothing short of unnerving.

The biggest question for the witch to ponder was why they had done it. Eluvians required no special rights or ceremonies in order to be used. One simply walked through and were transported elsewhere. There had to be a deeper reasoning for using magic on The Warden. Morrigan was sure of it. It just didn't make any sense.

The shadows of early evening were starting to stretch across the plains outside Highever as the witch and her companion at last arrived at a suitable location for her to change forms. Lock watched in awe as she raised her arms above her head and a soft glow began to emanate from somewhere deep within Morrigan. Slowly her form morphed from that of the beautiful Witch of the Wilds into a monstrous high dragon.

Her golden scales glistened and twinkled in the bright sun as she beat her wings against the air, as if to stretch off decades-old rust that somehow had accumulated. Lock watched the scene in complete amazement. The witch could tell by his reaction that the elf had never seen anything even remotely as magnificent in his entire life. She grinned to herself. The small creature beside her hadn't even the faintest notion of the raw power and energy that coursed through her massive form, she thought.

She beckoned for Lock to climb atop her, but he appeared reluctant to comply. Once more, Morrigan gestured a massive claw to indicate to the elf that it was time to leave, but he was still unwilling. Not one to want to waste precious time, the witch simply snatched Lock from where he stood and deposited him at the base of her long neck. Lock gave out an involuntary squeal when she did so. It was another aspect of the elf that Morrigan found to be more than slightly off.

Surely in his adventures as a rogue he had encountered many strange and marvelous things, yet the small man acted as though he was completely petrified of the witch, even though he was fully aware that it was she. Although it was quite possible that he simply had never been so close to a high dragon before. The witch was forced to admit to herself that such an introduction to a high dragon could possibly be a bit unsettling.

She could feel Lock clutch his arms around her tightly as she leaped into the air. Her powerful wings pushed against the sky as effortlessly as if they were nothing more than great oars rowing a ship in the sea. While doing several tight turns, Morrigan gradually rose higher and higher until the trees that speckled the countryside were as small as pebbles. She let out a mighty roar and thrust her long body eastward, toward the direction Lock said they must go.

As they soared off to the east, Lock exclaimed, "You're a dragon! Dragons are real!" as if he was actually surprised by the fact that, not only had he'd seen a dragon, he was riding atop one. The witch simply looked back at the strange man, rolled her eyes, and continued flying.

For several hours, Morrigan and Lock traveled through the sky. To soar above the clouds was one of the most exhilarating experiences the witch could imagine. It had been far too long since she had taken dragon-form and she had missed it far more than she knew. Even if she did have to contend with a passenger, it was worth it just to spread her leathery wings and take to the skies. At least Lock wasn't becoming ill and needing her to make frequent stops, as her warden had done on more than one occasion. He preferred to keep his feet solidly planted on the ground. Still, he would fly with his witch if he was forced to. Although he vomited nearly every single time he did so.

As the sun grew low in the western sky, Lock pulled at Morrigan's neck and began to shout, "Down there! We need to go down!"

As much as she enjoyed flying, she was glad to have arrived. That meant the witch was just a little closer to being with her love again. So she obliged the elf and slowly turned in wide circles over the place he indicated, slowly descending, until at last, her great claws touched down against the ground once more.

Lock scrambled down from his perch and began to race through the field of tall grass. In the distance lay a large clump of boulders. It was there that the elf was racing towards. Morrigan spied the small man climbing the rocks as she returned from her dragon-form.

He was peering frantically into each crack and crevice between the large boulders that seemed to have been randomly and haphazardly piled on the ground. "It's under here!" Lock shouted. "The opening is here somewhere!"

"Stand aside, then" the witch commanded and she began to summon her magic. "If there is an entrance you seek, it shall be found."

As the elf hopped down from the pile of rocks, he spied Morrigan. She was standing perfectly straight and still. The very air began to tingle and Lock could feel the hairs on his arms begin to raise as the witch focused herself.

Slowly, she raised her arms into the air and clenched her fists. The witch's face bore intense concentration and strain. Soon, sounds could be heard emanating from beneath the pile of rubble. Lock soon realized that it was the rocks, themselves, that were beginning to vibrate and shake, as if being tugged on by some unseen force. Morrigan let out a shout and forcefully pulled down her arms. A wave of power was released. It rippled across the meadow and collided with the hard stone. He watched in amazement as the boulders, some weighing several tons, just rolled out of the way, as if they simply decided to up and move on their own. When the last of the stones were cleared, a crumbling archway was revealed. Beneath the archway, steps led downward into the darkened depths below.

Lock could only gasp in wonder. "How did you do that?" he asked.

Morrigan chuckled slightly. "'Twas a simple enough spell." she replied. "Come. We mustn't tarry."

As the elf had seen Morrigan do before, she turned her left palm upwards and a spark of light erupted forth, bathing the area in a soft blueish-green glow. Lock could only stare, dumbfounded by the witch's seemingly cavalier attitude to what had just transpired; what she had just done.

Although Morrigan didn't know Lock's true nature or from when he originally came, she may have been better served to notice his reactions to her abilities. To her, it was nothing of great importance. He was simply the victim of a spell gone bad that had scrambled his brain. But to Lock's knowledge, he'd never actually seen anyone with authentic magical ability before. He knew what he was seeing wasn't quite right, but he couldn't put his finger on why that was.

There where some things, however, that did trouble the witch. Most notable among these concerns was the fact that the entrance lay under tons of rock and stone. If Lock had only recently escaped, how was it that the archway had already been covered? And not just recently so. Those stones had been resting where they were for a quite a while it seemed.

As they descended the stairs together, Morrigan wondered aloud, "something troubles me."

"What's that?" Lock replied, unsure of the witch's tone.

"I find it hard to believe you've only recently escaped your captors." the witch noted. "The pile of stones we encountered above would seem to indicate this place had been abandoned some time ago."

"It's been almost two years since I left. I blew up the entrance so no one else could find it." the elf answered in a matter-of-fact tone. It was clear to him that there was no mystery involved at all. He was there and he knew was transpired. It was one of the few things about his past he was sure about. Although he didn't remember much before Malachi had him changed, most of what had happened since was still very fresh in his mind.

Still, the answer did little to alleviate Morrigan's doubts. If anything, it bothered the witch even more. "It's been two years since you left?" she asked, greatly wishing Lock was clearer about the things she told him and in the manner in which he told it. "If that is so, why did you only now seek me out?"

The light from Morrigan's ball wasn't great, but even with the dim glow it cast she was able to see the elf's face scrunch up in confusion. "I didn't know how to get to Highever." he answered. "No one would help me. People in this place are strange and hard to understand sometimes. They say funny things and never mean what they say."

"How could one be in Ferelden and not know of Highever? 'Tis a most odd statement."

"I don't think I'm from Ferelden." was all the elf would offer in response.

The pair finally found themselves at the base of the long stairs, which opened up into a large ante-chamber. Around them were tall marble columns that stretched upwards to the vaulted ceiling above. Carvings and statues aligned either side of the chamber. Morrigan reasoned that these were probably images of heroes or gods the builders of this place worshiped. At the far end of the chamber were three doorways. One on the left side, one on the right, and the last was placed opposite to them against the far wall.

"'Tis unlike any elven ruin I've encountered before." Morrigan noted. "I wonder as to its purpose."

"I'm not sure. Malachi said something about storage." Lock said, giving a half hearted shrug as he did.

"Perhaps we may yet find glyphs I can decipher." she said as her eyes looked over the chamber. "However, as intriguing as all this is, 'tis best if we not get distracted. There are more pressing matters we must address. Where is this _reflection_ you spoke of?"

The elf gestured to the doorway on the opposite wall and started to head off in that direction. As they neared the far end of the chamber and passed by the doors on either side, the witch couldn't resist the urge to peek inside to see the contents they hid. She first went to the left, but as her hand reached out to grasp the handle and open the large wooden door, Lock held out his arm to stop her.

"I wouldn't look in there. Bad things. Bad memories." he cautioned.

Of course, his words only served to pique the witch's curiosity further. She casually brushed off his warning and opened the door to reveal what mysterious secrets lay behind it. It was a decision she would instantly regret.

As Morrigan held out her light to better peer into the darkness, what her eyes caught sight of very nearly froze the blood in her veins. Some things, once seen, can never be unseen.

Against the far wall, heavy chains had been attached to large anchors which were driven deep into the stone. At the ends of those chains were shackles, which were obviously meant to hold someone captive. And by the look of it, they did their job exceptionally well, for all around the immediate area the unmistakable signs of dried blood could be seen. It was as though whoever was trapped here had been mercilessly beaten and tortured. There was no denying the purpose of this room. And although the witch said nothing, Lock could feel the anger and seething hatred that emanated from Morrigan as it washed over her.

"They had to break him first." Lock said meekly. "It wouldn't have worked, otherwise. I tried to warn you."

"'Tis unimportant." was all she replied as she turned smartly about and stormed out of the room, a stern grimace on her face. But the elf knew better than to trust her words. It was important to the witch. Very important, indeed.

Whatever questions Morrigan held about this place were quickly brushed aside in favor of more urgent concerns. She wished only to find the eluvian, activate it, and bring her warden home. Nothing else mattered.

Instead of waiting for Lock to lead the way, Morrigan charged ahead through the open doorway against the far wall of the main ante-chamber. There she found a corridor which turned to the right and led off into the darkness. She followed the hallway until she was again met with another set of stairs that went down farther into parts unseen.

"Down there lies what you're after." the elf said, adding a gesture to emphasize his point. "But know this: Once you activate it and go through, there's no turning back."

In return, the witch offered a look that said "_I have no intentions of turning back_."

Undeterred, the elf continued, "Beyond the reflection lies a strange land with strange people. They will say things that are foreign to you and wear clothes you've never seen before."

Although Morrigan decided to take Lock's warning more seriously than she had with the room, there wasn't a force in creation that would have stopped her or forced her to reconsider. "I have been to many strange lands in my travels." she said. "Indeed, Ferelden, itself, once was a very strange place for me."

"But what lies beyond isn't Ferelden." Lock countered. "It's the land of Bih'luhxee."

The word was unfamiliar to the witch. She couldn't recall any place in Thedas with that name. That didn't mean much, though. While she had ventured to many remote and distance places, she'd never traveled north of the Waking Sea. She reasoned that this 'Bih'luhxee' was nothing more than a small village, perhaps in the Free Marches.

"You are familiar with this place, are you?" she asked.

"I think so." he answered, though not confidently. "I think that's where I'm from."

Unable to wait any longer, Morrigan hurried down the steps to the chamber below. What she found when she got there puzzled her at first, as there was simply a metal archway against the wall and several metal poles with glass jars sitting atop them scattered around the room. Strangely, however, nearly as soon as she entered the room, a click could be heard and the jars filled with bright, white light. In an instant, the entire room was bathed in the light. The archway also sprang to life, as small gems embedded within it also started to glow. The entire spectacle startled the witch and caught her by surprise. It wasn't something she'd ever witnessed before and was unprepared to see it.

Quickly, though, Morrigan recovered and noticed a small opening on the left side of the archway. It appeared to be the same size as the end of the key. Instantly she understood its purpose and had a good idea of how to use it. The key had to be the power source, she reasoned.

The witch reached into her knapsack and withdrew the metal cylinder from within. She held it in her hands, out in front of her, and attempted to focus on the object, pouring her magic into it. Before long, the gem began to slowly pulse as Morrigan channeled her energy to it. The pulses became more rapid and brighter the more she focused. Then, in a flash, the gem lit up and began to glow with a deep red aura.

Morrigan took the key and inserted it into its place in the archway. As she did so, the gems along the edge of the archway flashed and pulsed in a myriad of different colors. There was a loud clank followed by the sounds of gears turning somewhere deep within the thick walls. She saw the key rotate in its spot. There was a great roar as the eluvian exploded to life. That's when she noticed a problem she hadn't anticipated.

As the archway glowed with power, Morrigan saw that this was unlike any eluvian she'd seen before. The sight she saw while looking into the archway was more like looking through a window than it was mirror. Usually with other eluvians, one couldn't see what was on the other side. There was no real need. Either it led to the Crossroads, or, if one was already at the Crossroads, it simply deposited you back into the real world at a different point. And while she found this to be strange, she wasn't about to let it stop her from doing what she needed. With a final glance over her shoulder at the elf, Morrigan stepped through into whatever awaited her on the other side.

There was a loud rush of air around her and she felt as though she were being pulled through a long tunnel. Once she reached the other end, she was unceremoniously spit out several feet above the ground. She landed with a _thud_ on some hard surface that felt like stone.

Almost immediately, there was a sound the witch had never heard before. She turned to face it and was confronted by the sight of two orbs that shone as brightly as the sun. They were rushing toward her at incredible speed. Suddenly there was a horrendous screeching sound that was accompanied by the shrill blast from some trumpet-like object. Though it only played one blaring note. The twin orbs came to rest just a few feet from the witch.

It was then that she heard a voice coming from behind the orbs. It was the gruff voice of a man. But he didn't sound happy and he was yelling something at her.

"Get out of the fucking road, you stupid bitch!" the voice hollered.

The orbs turned slightly to the side and the witch heard a great roar, as if from some angry beast. She could clearly see the orbs where attached to a large metal object as it growled its way around her and then sped off into the night beyond.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter IV**

Derrick found the feeling of not having to be at work very strange. Usually he spent the vast majority of his waking hours at his job. But with the restaurant undergoing some much needed renovations, he found he had a great deal more spare time on his hands than he was accustomed to. Not that there wasn't plenty to do around his home, which was situated on ten acres of land in the middle of the Mississippi pine forest, he just wasn't used to having the opportunity to actually get to any of it.

For as long as he could remember, Derrick wanted to be a world-class chef. He had always displayed a fair amount of aptitude in the kitchen, and when he was old enough, he started working in commercial kitchens. Like everyone else he knew, he started out washing dishes. But with time and effort, he progressed up the ranks from dishwasher to prep cook and from prep he finally made his way onto the line. He'd worked every station on the line for several years before finally earning the title of _sous chef_, something he was extremely proud of at the time. It was his job to orchestrate the chaos during the hectic dinner services. He held himself and his crew to a higher standard and expected as much out of himself as he did those under him. Ultimately all his hard work was rewarded and he was christened _executive chef_. It is a title not to be taken lightly, as very few ever rise to such heights in the kitchen. He oversaw everything now. The restaurant was essentially his ship and he intended to be the best captain he could be.

While his career was going extremely well and Derrick was making a real name for himself in the culinary community, his personal life had suffered greatly. Spending seventy or more hours a week in the kitchen hardly affords one the time for more personal pursuits, after all. He had no spouse, nor any children. About the only companion he had in the entire world was his ever-faithful dog, Leo.

Day after day, Leo would patiently wait for his master's return after another long day at work. As always, he would greet Derrick with joy and exuberance before Derrick had even gotten completely out of his car. One would get the impression that the beast thought he would never see his master again from his reaction. Of course, Derrick was very nearly just as glad to see the dog. They made the perfect pair.

Now things were a bit different, though. For the next two weeks, Leo would have his master all to himself and he was starting to become accustomed to having Derrick around. However, it was plain to see an uneasiness in the dog's eyes as he wondered when his master would leave him again. As a result, Leo stayed as near Derrick as he could get, just in case his master were to have any silly notions of venturing off to have adventures without him.

Little did either beast or man know how their quaint little world was about to be interrupted. As with most life changing scenarios, what was about to drop into their lives was far from what one could expect. With no way to dodge or even any warning given to prepare, Derrick was about to be flung into the most absurd and crazy journey anyone had ever been forced to embark upon. And like a tiny snowball that rolls down the mountain gathering speed and size until, almost without noticing, it has become an avalanche, most changes start small and grow ever larger as they progress. This was no exception as Derrick, who was sitting in front of his television, was alerted by Leo's barking to a stranger on his property; a most interesting stranger, indeed.

Derrick hopped up from his chair to look out the large sliding door that faced towards the road that ran along the edge of his land. He was surprised to see a woman making her way on foot up the rock-covered driveway that led to his house. He recognized the woman's outfit and hair as something he was familiar with. But this only added to the puzzle. Why would someone be dressed like that all the way out here, he wondered to himself.

His hand slid the large door open and he stepped out onto the wooden porch, all the while his gaze never left the sight of the strange woman, who seemed more concentrated on Leo than him. Not that her concern was unreasonable. Leo, being a pit bull, had often garnered wary looks from those who came to visit. It was one of the reasons Derrick liked having the dog around. Pit bulls had a stigma about them. Even though Leo was just a big baby and more interested in showing guests where the food was kept than he was anything else.

But something happened when Derrick stepped down from the porch and moved to open the gate. That's when the strange woman noticed him. She was the most beautiful creature he'd ever seen, he thought, even if she did seem a little frazzled and dirty. The woman, however, broke out into a jog to quickly close the distance between them. He wasn't quite sure what to make of it, but some small little voice in the back of his head told him it was okay.

As soon as Derrick opened the gate, the woman came rushing through and jumped into his arms. Her slender arms wrapped him up in the tightest embrace he'd ever felt. There was a sense of warmth and longing conveyed through the woman's touch that he found oddly familiar, though he had no clue who this woman was or why she was acting in such a strange manner.

As she buried her head in Derrick's chest she exclaimed "I have found you at last!" She was becoming emotional and her voice cracked with the words.

All he could do in return was ask, "found me?"

The raven-haired woman looked up at him, her eyes welling with tears. It was then that he noticed her golden irises. They served to make her even more beautiful and mysterious. "I had feared your death." she began to explain, "But as ever, you found a way. Lock was able to deliver his message to me. And so I am here to fetch you and bring you home."

Derrick's head was spinning from all the confusing input. "Wait.. What? What are you talking about? Who is Lock?" he asked in quick succession. "Lady, are you feeling okay?"

The raven-haired, golden-eyed woman released him from her embrace and back away, shock and horror in her eyes. "What have they done to you? Do you not know me?"

"I think I know who you're trying to be. It is a pretty good costume." he replied, still unsure of why this woman was acting as she was.

"Costume? Of what do you speak?"

"I get it. You're supposed to be Morrigan, Witch of the Wilds. But you're a long way from any cosplay conventions. Maybe they're having one down on the coast?" he replied. "You've even got the voice down too. You sound just like her. You really went all out, didn't you?"

"Cosplay?" the woman questioned, perplexed. "I can assure you 'tis no costume. Your words make little sense."

"What happened? Did you get lost on your way to the Coast Convention Center? Decided maybe to have a little fun with one of the local yokels in the meantime? Poke fun at a backwoods hick?"

"Do not be absurd. I've come to take you home!" the woman fumed, obviously starting to become aggravated by the entire situation.

"Crazy lady, I am home and I don't appreciate strangers coming into my yard are starting trouble. So, if you don't mind, go pretend to be Morrigan someplace else."

"I _am_ Morrigan!" the woman huffed. "_Your wife_!"

'You're nuts is what you are! I don't have a wife!" Derrick countered forcefully. "Get off my property. _Now!_"

The woman took at step back, clearly shocked by his words. "Please, please do not cast me aside." she pleaded. "I've worked so hard to find you in this strange place with its damnable and unrelenting heat. I beg you, give me the opportunity to show you the truth of my words."

"I don't have time for this. Just leave." was his response.

"You cook for others here, do you not?" she blurted out.

Her statement caught him off guard. "Uh, yeah. I cook for a living. How do you know that?"

The woman nodded as if she was not at all surprised by his answer. "Of course you do. What other vocation would you have chosen for yourself in this strange place? I do know you well, my love."

While his job was not out of the ordinary, given the thousands of possible options to choose from though, her correct guess did seem rather uncanny. He had to admit that the encounter was probably the strangest one he'd ever had. But still, there was something about her that kept tugging at him. There was a familiarity that he was not able to place. He could swear that he knew this crazy woman from somewhere, he just couldn't put his finger on it. However, he did consider himself to be kind hearted and figured it was probably best if he helped her get to where she belonged, with the people she belonged with.

Derrick rubbed the bridge of his nose and gently shook his head, saying as he did so, "I'm probably going to regret this. But come on. Let's see if we can't get you to where you need to be."

The pair walked up the steps and onto the porch. Derrick slid the large glass door open and gestured for the woman to walk through. "After you." he said, trying to sound polite. The woman smiled, nodded, and proceeded to enter his home.

The first thing she noticed was the intense rush of cool air that greeted her. She let out a long sigh of relief and said, "Finally to be rid of that infernal heat. How is it so cool in here?"

"I have a good air conditioner." he replied. "You can't live in South Mississippi and not have good AC."

"Air conditioner? That being what, exactly?"

"Really? We're still doing this?" Derrick said while shaking his head. "Never mind. It's not important."

It was then that the woman calling herself Morrian noticed the large screen mounted against the wall in the living room. She walked closer to it, fascinated by the strange moving pictures displayed on the magical tapestry. "This device you possess; 'tis most strange to see other people and places as though one where simply looking through a window. I have seen others like it since coming to this dreadful land." she noted.

"I figure if you're gonna watch TV, you might was well have a good one." Derrick bragged. He was rather fond of his recent purchase of a seventy inch screen LED television, even if he was the only one who ever saw it.

"What is it that we are seeing now? I do not recognize it."

"That's called a _pause screen_." he answered with a chuckle. "Considering how you're dressed, I'd think you've seen a video game before."

He strolled over to the wooden coffee table upon which rested a single game controller. He picked it up and tapped a button on it causing the screen to flash and come to life. The image now presented contained no small amount of irony to it. "Recognize that person?" he asked coolly, as if he already knew the answer.

The woman gasped and covered her mouth with her hand. There was only one response she could have had to seeing such a sight. "'Tis me!" she exclaimed.

"Yep. 'Tis you." he quipped sarcastically, mocking her mannerisms.

"How is such a thing even possible?" the woman wondered aloud. "These two worlds must be connected in some fashion; one leaking into the other. There can be no other explanation."

The woman watched as his fingers fumbled across the controls and a button was pressed. She reasoned that these things seemed to be somehow connected to what happened on the screen in front of her, for as soon as he activated the small device in his hands, the sound of a man speaking could be heard. He was asking a question to the Morrigan on the screen, to which she responded in her normal sultry way.

"I sound nothing like that!" the woman gasped.

"You sound _exactly_ like that." Derrick countered.

Of course he had no way of knowing that the woman standing next to him had never heard herself speak before. She was blissfully unaware that she sounded differently to others than she did to herself. To her, it might as well have been a totally different person talking. But to him, there was no doubt about it. The voices were identical. He was forced to admit it was an odd coincidence, but a coincidence all the same.

Upon eyeing the image further, the woman noticed something that wasn't quite right. "What happened to my breasts?" she inquired. "Why are they made to be so small? Surely, if whomever made this deception was aiming to be accurate, that part of me, at least, would have been correct."

"I can't answer that. But I was wondering the same thing, myself." he admitted. "They were bigger in the first game."

"The first game?" she asked, clearly confused.

"Not important."

He was as sure that he'd never seen this woman before as he was sure of anything else. But he still couldn't shake the notion that something about her presence seemed like she had always been there. He just couldn't place it. The entire situation was becoming disconcerting. His skin was beginning to crawl.

"Is there someone we can call to come get you?" he asked as he moved over to the granite-topped island in the middle of his kitchen and snatched his phone from the shiny surface.

"There isn't anyone inside your speaking stone that I wish to communicate with. As I have already stated, my business here is with you." the real-life Morrigan answered, still transfixed by the marvelous images on the screen in front of her.

Since arriving in the foreign place, the witch had seen many people using such small devices as the one he possessed. She heard them speaking into them and could hear faint, small voices making replies in return. She assumed the stone to be some sort of magic that contained spirits of some kind within and allowed communication between the world of the living and the fade.

He chuckled at her response. "Speaking stone, huh? That's a good one."

"I've never seen such a thing before. If it has another name by which it is known, I know not what that might be." she countered with a certainty that almost felt convincing.

"You're definitely committed to this, aren't you?" Derrick noticed. "You can stop with the act any time now."

"An act it most assuredly is not. What must I do to convince you? Is it really so impossible to think that I have come for you?"

Of course, unknown to the witch, 'impossible' would be the exact word he'd use to describe what she proposed. What she said was nothing short of pure madness. There had to be more going on here.

In a sudden realization, he was sure he finally found the answers. "I get it. Who put you up to this? Was it Dave? He always said he'd get me back for hiding his keys that time."

"I know of no one by that name."

"Sure you do." he retorted. And, snapping his fingers, it dawned on him. There was someplace he felt he knew her from. "The Christmas party two years ago! That's how I know you!" he blurted out. "You were there, but you weren't dressed like that. I knew I'd figure it out!"

"Again, you are mistaken." the witch calmly corrected. "If I seem familiar to you, 'tis because I am so. What they have done to you did not completely erase who you once were. Something of our life together yet remains_._"

The entire ordeal was starting to grate on his nerves more than a little. Derrick could feel the beginning of a headache coming on as the back of his head started to throb, with the sensation creeping forward across his skull and into his temples. No matter how he tried to trip the woman up or get her to drop the façade, she refused to do so. That meant one of two things: either she was a very good actress and someone was playing a very good joke at his expense, or that she honestly thought she was who she said. If it was the former, any number of people could be the culprit behind the game. He was known for playing pranks on his co-workers and it only stood to reason that they would eventually turn the tables on him. But if it was the latter, then that could only mean one thing. This woman was crazy.

Whatever the case was, Derrick didn't think she posed him any real threat. While she was obviously deluded, she didn't carry anything other than the clothes she arrived in. Added to that was the fact that he was twice her size. He stood just over six feet tall and was solidly built and well muscled. She couldn't have been more than five five, five six at most. Unless she was some sort of judo master, he felt there wasn't any way she would be able to take him by surprise and overpower him. Not that she even intended to.

"Alright, _Morrigan_," he teased, "have it your way."

"I would have done anything to hear you call my name again, even if you do nothing but say it in jest." she replied, clearly aware of his strong doubts about her story.

"Of course you would." he quipped tersely. "Look, it's getting late and I'm hungry. So you might as well stay while I make dinner."

The woman smiled and nodded heartily in agreement. "I have missed your cooking nearly as much as I have missed you."

He reached and pulled out one of the stools that rested beneath the large island and gestured for her to sit, which she obliged. With great interest she watched as he skillfully prepared ingredients, cutting up garlic and mushrooms among other things, and set about cooking and combining the items in such an effortless way that the witch found almost mesmerizing. His skill with a blade, any blade, came so naturally to him, as though he wielded the razor-sharp edges like they were merely extensions of his own hands. She was well aware of his gifts, having been witness to them on countless occasions before, even if he, himself, was not. But that would soon change, Morrigan hoped to herself. With effort, she was positive she would be able to break through the damage Malachi had done. There was already some spark that remained. She was sure of it.

When he was finished, he neatly arranged his culinary masterpiece onto two matching plates. The witch watched as he delicately, but deliberately, placed the juicy cuts of beef along with some sautéed vegetables and what appeared to be a large potato that was wrapped in the thinnest veil of metal Morrigan had ever seen. He sliced through the metal shrouding the potatoes and squished the ends in, which forced the opening to spread as puffs of steam rose up from the hot spuds. She watched as he heaped even more ingredients onto the now-open potatoes, stuffing them to the brim with delicacies.

He snatched both plates and made for the small, round table that sat near the corner of his kitchen. As he lay the plates down, he beckoned for the witch to join him. Morrigan gladly rose from her spot and settled herself in a chair next to his.

He gave her a look that said he was expecting her to sit across from him, not next to. But after a brief shrug, he resumed setting out the cutlery, saying as he did so, "I made ribeyes with loaded baked potatoes and something I call a hot salad. I think you'll like it."

"So, a steak with cooked vegetables, then?" the witch clarified.

"Yeah." he said, chuckling a bit. "I remembered not to put cheese on your potato, though."

The raven-haired woman cast a quizzical glance, "did you, now?" she asked. "Remembered what, exactly, since I've made no mention of it?"

"You can't have cheese. You're lactose intoller…" he started to reply before his words trailed off.

Morrigan's only reply was to beam a wry grin at him.

"Wait, how did I know that?"


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter V**

Derrick had to give the woman credit. She was persistent, there wasn't any doubts about that. He happened to make one small guess about her not being able to have dairy products and she refused to let the matter go. Well, maybe it wasn't such a small guess. Still, just because he was lucky about one thing didn't mean that her entire crazy story was true. Not in the slightest. But the woman calling herself the _real_ Morrigan insisted on convincing him about their long and storied past together.

It was a shame, really. She was such a beautiful creature. If he wasn't so mesmerized by her haunting eyes and sultry voice he probably would have cast her out not long after she started with her insane talk. At first, he figured it was most likely one of his co-workers that was playing a prank on him; a prank that quickly got out of hand. However, the longer she was there, the more he began to think she really believed what she said. There wasn't any flaws in her act or any cracks in her resolve. The closest thing he could figure was that she was headed to some video game convention dressed as the witch and had an unfortunate accident of some sort. She must have hit her head and rattled her brains. That was the only explanation that made any sense.

Despite all the lunacy, Derrick was still somehow convinced that he knew this woman from somewhere. Not in the way she suggested, of course. That would be complete and utter madness. Although, he did have one sure-fire way to settle the matter once and for all. But he was hesitant to use it since he wasn't completely sure of the woman's mental stability. He feared it could throw her right over the deep end and cause her to act out. Even if she was crazy, at least she'd been peaceful so far. And she really didn't seem like she had anywhere else to go, so he was reluctant to throw her out and leave her to her own devices. But as the hours after dinner had dragged on with her looking for any opening to use to her advantage, he was finally forced to play his hand.

Derrick looked the woman straight in the eye and with as serious a face as he could muster he challenged her. "Alright, do some magic then." he said.

The raven-haired woman shot back a quizzical glance. "I beg your pardon?"

"If you're really her, the _real_ Morrigan, then do some magic. It shouldn't be that hard, right?" he insisted. "Do something...anything...and I'll believe what you say."

"If it were in my power, I would have already done so, I assure you." Morrigan snapped back. "However, this place has no magic in it; a fact I'm sure you are already well aware of, lest your trap have no teeth."

Her answer did surprise him a little. He thought she might try to do something magical, and after failing, she would either see the error in her logic or have a complete breakdown. And while he was happy it wasn't the latter, he was caught off guard by it not being the former as well. Instead, she was aware that he was trying to call her bluff. So he did the best thing he could think of in order to try to salvage his maneuver.

"Yeah, that's what I thought." he quipped, his voice dripping with pessimism.

"You would prefer instead that I act as mad as you claim me to be and attempt things we both know haven't any chance of succeeding?" the witch shot back fiercely. "The point of that being what exactly? To prove my lunacy? If that is your aim, you shall be sorely mistaken, I can assure you."

"Then I don't know what you expect me to do." he replied with a shrug.

The witch raised her golden eyes to meet his gaze. There was a softness to them that he felt was warm and inviting; like he'd seen that face countless times before. He told himself that it was just his wishful thinking. After all, who wouldn't want such a crazy story to be true? Who wouldn't jump at the chance to be called the hero of an entire nation and have the love of the most beautiful woman in the world?

"Oh, my love." she said softly "Of all the obstacles we've faced together, this is not the greatest. 'Tis but a small thing. In time, you will remember me...remember _us_...of this I have no doubt."

"You have to know how crazy all of this sounds, right?"

"In this world, I find myself being the only one having any amount of sanity at all." the witch retorted.

His eyes drifted off into the distance while his mind wandered in thought. "I can't tell you how many hours I pissed away playing that damn game." he admitted, almost sounding regretful. "I'd never seen anything like it before...like _her_ before. I was drawn to it. I would have given almost anything for it to last forever."

He rubbed his chin as he remembered how the game made him feel. There was a connection to the golden-eyed temptress on his screen that he couldn't explain. She called to him. He knew it was silly to feel the way he did about a video game character, but in his own thoughts, it didn't matter. She meant more to him than he would ever openly admit to anyone.

"And now you're telling me all of this is real?" he asked, his eyes locking on hers once more. "And you honestly expect me to just believe you?"

"I cannot give you the proof you require. 'Tis something only you can see for yourself."

"This has been the strangest day of my life." he said as he turned to head off into the kitchen. His hand grabbed the handle on the refrigerator and swung it open, saying as he did, "I need a beer."

"How very like you." the witch sighed.

He snatched the prized frosty beverage from its place on the shelf and popped the top. He placed the opening to his lips and tossed back a large swig of the malty goodness inside. "Ahh..." he let out after several long, hard swallows of his prized golden nectar.

"I see little of you has changed." the witch huffed. "Me you cannot remember, but your love of beer transcends all worlds."

His only response was to shake his head and continue drinking his beer. "Look..." he started to say after several more swigs, "it's getting pretty late. You can stay here tonight since you don't have any place else to go."

And so Derrick prepared a spot on his couch for the witch to sleep for the night. What would happen when morning came was anyone's guess. He was sure there was someone out there who was wondering where this crazy woman was and certainly had to be looking for her. He wouldn't really have any way of knowing, though, unless he saw a post or article about it online. He did, however, live in a small community where everyone knew everyone else, so if one of the locals had lost a friend or relative, there was a chance he might find out about it through the local grapevine. But that didn't answer the question about what to do with the strange woman in the meantime.

A part of him was in no hurry for the woman to leave. Sure, she spoke about crazy nonsense, but that didn't mean he didn't like having her around. At least a little bit, anyway. He was forced to admit that she was exactly like the Morrigan from games he played, which certainly was uncanny. Not just how she looked, but even how she spoke. Given his fascination with the witch, he was reluctant to see her leave. He would enjoy having her around, even though he would refuse to entertain her delusions. Although he found himself greatly wishing that her delusions were true.

And while he slept in his large comfortable bed, the witch found herself having to make due with less grand accommodations. It was the first night they had been together but not shared the same bed since the first weeks of the blight all those years ago. And although Morrigan longed to be by her warden's side, she was at least grateful to be in the same building as him. She was resolved to do whatever was necessary to jog his memory.

Lock had told her that The Warden's captors had to break him before they could change him. At the time, she wasn't quite sure what the elf was talking about. But now, it made a great deal more sense. The witch had seen men succumb to the rigors of war and torture and knew that it could cause a man's mind to implode upon itself. Powerful warriors and mages were reduced to a faint shell of their former selves. A cunning person could use this to shape one's personality and mold it into something dreadful. It was known throughout Thedas that the Qunari and Tevinter Imperium both used such methods to great effect. Whoever this Malachi was, he had broken her husband and molded him to be an entirely different man. They had tried to erase what we once was and replace it with something more mundane; something more _normal_. But the greatness was in him still. Morrigan knew that as much as she knew her own name. Once he was forced to confront that fact, he would have to see who he really was and where he belonged.

There were many obstacles that lie ahead, though. For starters, she had to admit that her love and devotion to him wouldn't be enough to save him. While those things were strong and had been sufficient to lead her to him, that would be the extent of what they were capable of. No, it wouldn't be her love for him. It had to be his love for her. Only that would break whatever spell Malachi had cast on her precious warden. All she needed to do was remind him of it.

At the very least, the witch thought to herself, she finally had a comfortable spot to rest. Since arriving in this damnable land, Morrigan had to make due with any form of shelter she happened to stumble upon while she searched for her beloved. And no matter where she bedded down for the night, there was always the insufferable heat.

It had taken her weeks to track him down, and in that time she was able to learn a great deal about the new world she found herself in. Although she understood little of what she saw. But one thing was for certain: while most of the rules were the same between her world and this one, there were several distinct differences. For starters, there was no magic here. Had she known this beforehand, it would have certainly altered her approach to the matter. Instead, this place was formed and manipulated by something called 'science', which yielded strange and wonderful machines and devices the witch could never have dreamed possible. Even with the remarkable sights she saw, however, Morrigan desired only to find her husband and return to more a familiar place. Though, even in that there was a problem.

She was confident that she could restore his memories of her and their life. But once she did so, she didn't have the slightest clue how to return the two of them back to Ferelden. It was one of the many complications that not having magic was starting to have on her plan. But there had to be a way home. Surely the portal had to work in both directions, didn't it? She simply needed to figure out this _science_ and use it to open a way for her and The Warden to return to Ferelden. It couldn't be that hard, could it?

The steamy and humid night began to wane and the first rays of the new dawn climbed across the sky. The buzzing and clicking of insects was replaced by the chirps of birds and the barks of squirrels as they sifted through the dew-covered grass in search of a morning meal. Derrick begrudgingly rose from his bed, shoving his blanket to the side as he did.

He rubbed his hands against his eyes in an effort to force the sleep away. With a large stretch and a deep yawn, he looked over at Leo, who was lying on the floor near the bed, and said "C'mon, boy. Time to get up."

Instantly the beast hopped up and excitedly headed for the bedroom door. Derrick was often jealous of Leo's ability to go from a deep sleep to being wide awake and energetic in an instant. He, however, often needed a good kick in the backside just to get moving. Mostly that kick came in the form of a strong cup of coffee.

He opened the door and walked out, heading by the front door and into the living room. As he passed by the couch, he had to do a double-take. He had almost completely forgotten about his guest, who was still sound asleep on the sofa. He couldn't help but smile as he watched her.

He made his way into the kitchen and began fixing breakfast, which in this case was a pot of coffee and the morning news on his tablet. Roasted aroma filled the kitchen, and when it was ready, Derrick poured the dark liquid into his favorite mug and sat down at the table to enjoy it, sip by sip.

Before long, there was a rustling coming from the couch and he turned to see the dark-haired woman stirring. She rose up and, like him, rubbed the sleep away from her eyes. She blinked a few times and slowly looked around the room, as if she was attempting to bring the world into focus. It wasn't long before here golden eyes caught sight of him sitting at the table.

She smiled at him and said, "good morning, my love. I trust you slept well?"

The way she said those two words, '_my love'_, it sounded so natural and casual. It was like she had said it to him thousands of times before, and it should have bothered him to hear a complete stranger say such a thing, but somehow it didn't. In fact, it was quite the reverse. Even though it made him feel silly, he rather liked it. In no way did that mean he believed her crazy story on any level; but just to hear that seductive voice say those words, there was a certain something about it that he liked.

"I did, thank you." he returned with a smile and a nod. "Apparently I wasn't the only one."

"However do you mean?" she asked as she stood from the couch and began to fold the blanket.

"When I came out here, you here sleeping pretty hard." he answered, a sly grin forming across his lips. "You have the cutest little snore, you know that?"

"I do not snore!" the witch shot back, annoyed that he would even suggest such a thing.

"How do you know? Did you..." he started to ask before the golden-eyed woman quickly interrupted him.

"Stay up one night to find out?" she hissed, completing his question for him. "As usual, your attempts at humor elude me. 'Twas not funny the first time you said that to me. 'Tis less so now."

"Stop doing that!" he fumed. "It's creepy!"

The raven-haired woman looked at him with large, sad eyes. "What is it that you wish me to do, Dwemer? Pretend that I don't know you at all and remain silent?"

"What did you say?"

"I said, is it your wish that I remain silent?" she replied, her hands going to her hips and a strong glare focused right at him.

"No. Not that." he corrected. "What did you call me? Dweh...Dwehmair?"

'''Tis your name, silly man. What else would I call you?"

"My name is Derrick Cooper. Not Dwehmair, or whatever you called me."

The witch walked over to where he sat and stared down at him. Her eyes had softened and those beautiful orbs of hers seem to peer right into his soul. "No, my love." she said softly. "Your name is Dwemer Cousland."

There was a dead certainty to her voice and the look in her eyes showed Derrick that she plainly believed every word she said. At last he understood that she wasn't playing some sort of game with him. And what's more, he didn't think this woman was crazy at all. Other than the fact that she swore she climbed right out of a video game and claimed that he was her husband, that is. But she knew things about him as if she'd known him for years. Add to that was the strange familiarity he had to her that he just couldn't shake. Ever since she walked up onto his property he felt as though he knew her from somewhere. But there couldn't be any way that her story was true. Things like that just don't happen in the real world. Even the mere thought of it was preposterous. Wasn't it?

"I can't, Morrigan." he said to her. "Even if you do know things about me, how do you expect me to believe you without solid proof? That's crazy."

The witch nodded silently. Remarkable claims do require remarkable evidence, after all. If she were in a similar situation as he, she would of course feel the same way as he did. "Let us start small, then." she offered as she pulled out one of the chairs and sat next to him at the table. "First, allow me to offer you the proof you seek, or some small portion of it."

"Okay." he replied. "That sounds reasonable."

"Do you remember your life growing up in this land? Tell me of when you were a small boy." she asked as she leaned closer to him.

"I remember I always wanted to cook." he said. "There's something about cooking that I always found appealing and relaxing."

"I see." the witch replied as though she was some sort of psychoanalyst that was staring deep into his soul. "But beyond that. Tell me of a specific time. A birthday or going on holiday with your family."

He thought hard for a while, trying to force the jumbled memories in his head to come into focus. But everything was a blur and was refusing to cooperate. "I don't really know." he said. "After my parents died it's not very clear. I was moved from home to home, I think. I guess I must have blocked most of it out."

"So your parents died when you were very young, then?"

"Yeah. I don't remember how old I was when it happened."

The golden-eyed woman honed in with her final and most damning question. "If your youth is so hard for you to remember, then tell me what is the earliest clear memory you _do_ have, then."

Again Derrick appeared lost in thought. These were things he hadn't really ever considered before, and now that the witch had asked, he was having far more difficulty retrieving the memories than he should have. "I guess about two years ago or so, when I took over the restaurant." he replied. " I remember being made executive chef and being very proud of that."

"And that is the farthest you can remember?"

"I think so. Why? What does any of this prove?"

"Only this: You were taken from Ferelden just over two years ago. Do you now find it odd that your earliest memory is from that exact time?"

"It's just a coincidence, that's all." he countered. "A lot of kids block out memories from their troubled childhoods."

The witch nodded in agreement, but also gave an explanation of her own. "While 'tis true what torments a person in life can, out of necessity, be forgotten, the coincidences do seem to be adding up, do they not? How many more do you require before you admit that I may be telling the truth? That, in fact, you were stolen from me two years ago and the reason that you have no true memories before that time is because none exist?"

"This is getting weird. But that doesn't mean you're right."

"What more do you want from me?" Morrigan asked as the desperation and frustration of trying to break through his barriers was starting to set in. "Do you wish me to answer questions you have about yourself that only I can answer? Would you consider that to be the precious proof you so desire?"

"What do you mean?"

"Does it not seem odd to you that your body is covered in scars? How could that have happened to a man who has never seen the field of battle?"

Her question made him pause for a moment. It was another of the strange things she knew about him without having seen it first. He was indeed covered in scars across his chest and arms, but he was able to recover quickly and deliver what he thought was a suitable answer. "When you work with knives for a living, you're bound to cut yourself every once in a while." he countered, even though he realized how weak his argument was once he said it out loud.

The witch smirked at his response. She was aware that he was grasping at straws by this point and she had him backed into a corner. It was time to crack through his defenses once and for all and lay to rest any notions he had about her story being one of insanity.

"Is that so?" she questioned, a thick veil of sarcasm dripping from her words. "Tell me then, do many who work with you also manage to cut their legs?"

"What do you mean?"

"You know full well what I mean." she countered, having set him up, it was time to land the final blow. "On your left calf you have a curved scar that runs around to the front of your shin. Are you aware of how you got it, or shall I simply tell you instead?"

"The one on my leg? I got it...uh..I...uh...I'm not sure." he stammered as he tried very hard to remember.

"You received it when you and Alistair were searching the deep roads for a darkspawn temple. The temple gates were rigged with a trap and you were deeply cut as you tried to evade." the witch calmly informed. "It very nearly caused your death. Were it not for my ability to patch you back together...as I have done on numerous occasions...you would have died from the infection."

Derrick looked down at his leg a stared at his calf. He'd never really given the source of his scars any thought before. They were simply there; a part of him. Perhaps she was telling the truth after all? No. No, he couldn't let himself think such crazy thoughts.

The witch, noticing the turmoil within her warden, gently placed her hand on his arm and gave a gentle rub. "It brings me no joy to trouble you so, my love." she said in a soft tone, barely above a whisper. "But they took you from me and I shall not let you go so easily. You are the man who saw in me that which I could never see in myself. You loved me as I was, even as others scoffed at you for involving yourself with an apostate. A maleficar. You refused to give up on me. 'Twas because of you that I became the woman I am today. You and our family are everything to me. 'Twas you that taught me the importance of fighting for what you believe in, and I shall not back down nor hide in shame when you need me the most."

Something deep inside began to trouble The Warden. Her words were insane and impossible to believe, but he just couldn't convince himself not to believe them. He wanted so much for this beautiful woman to be his one true love. His heart longed for her words to be the truth and that they were destined and ordained to be together. He never knew how empty he felt until she walked into his life. It was as if the other half of him was calling for him to come home. But the unrelenting logic of it couldn't be denied. Video games weren't real.

Seeing his internal conflict, the witch pressed her lips softly to his ear and whispered, "Dwemer, I know you are in there somewhere. Come back to me please. I love you and I miss you terribly."

But before the witch's message could get through and strike home, both of them were suddenly startled by Leo's barking. He was sounding the alert over something. Derrick looked out the large glass door and noticed two black SUVs pulling up into his driveway. The dog, sensing something he didn't like, tried to force his way out the door as soon as Derrick slid it open, barking loudly the entire time. The hair stood straight on the beast's back and his teeth were bared. While it wasn't all too common for visitors to come by, Derrick had never seen his dog act in such a manner when they had. There was something about the vehicles the dog definitely didn't like.

The two SUVs drove all the way to just outside the gate and stopped. The driver's door on the one in the back opened and a man wearing an expensive suit stepped out and quickly opened the rear door. Slowly, another man wearing an equally expensive suit slid out and walked toward the gate as the first man stood rigid and at attention. Whoever this passenger was, he was clearly important in some fashion and the one in charge.

He wore dark sunglasses that covered his eyes from view, and even though he was wearing a heavy suit in ninety plus degree heat, there wasn't a single bead of sweat on his brow. As he approached the gate, he calmly rested his arm over the top and leaned against the fence. He shook his head slightly as he looked at Derrick.

"I knew you were going to be trouble." he said.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter VI**

"Hush Leo!" Derrick commanded the dog, who immediately ceased his barking at the strangers. "Sit!" Derrick ordered forcefully, to which the beast complied, plopping down on his hind end with a soft whimper as he did.

The witch shook her head and rolled her eyes. "Of course that is what you would name him." she said as she recalled The Warden's closest companion for many years.

Derrick shot a look of slight confusion at the woman. If it was another of the strange coincidences she was relying on for proof of her story, he was sure he was going to hear all about it soon enough. In the meantime, his focus returned to the well-dressed man who was resting against his gate. "Do I know you?" he asked

The mysterious man smiled slyly and said, "Not that you can remember."

"And what's that supposed to mean?" Derrick shot back.

"Nothing for you to worry about." the man replied nonchalantly. "We're here for your guest."

"My guest? What do you want with her?" Derrick asked as he cast his gaze to the witch who suddenly had a look of deep worry on her face.

"It seems she's wandered off again." the man answered as he his went to unlatch the gate and swing it open. "Been telling more of your crazy stories, my dear?"

"No!" the witch cried out. "Do not trust these men. I do not know who they are, but I suspect their aim is to prevent me from restoring your memories."

The mysterious man chuckled. "See? There she goes again. Always with the craziest stories. What is it this week? You're a princess trapped under a spell?"

"Or that time she was a secret agent from another planet." The other man at the back injected.

The mysterious man laughed. "That was a good one. She actually had a few people convinced."

The witch glared at the man, who was now slowly approaching her. "Come no farther! If you think I am going anywhere with you, you are sadly mistaken."

"Come now. Don't be this way. The doctor said it was for your own good. We just want to help. What would your family think if they knew you ran off? You don't want to put them through that again, do you?"

The witch grasped Derrick by his arm, holding it tightly. "Dwemer, I do not know these men. If you allow them to take me, then all is lost."

The doors of the SUV in the front all swung open as four more men stepped out, each dressed in a similar fashion as the first two. They calmly walked through the gate and started to form a circle around the witch. It was clear they intended to offer her no means of escape. Just as they were about to close in and drag Morrigan away, she yelled out, "wait!" causing the men to stop dead in their tracks.

Her big golden eyes stared straight at Derrick, pleading with him. "Allow me one final chance to offer you irrefutable proof that I am who I say."

Derrick was starting to feel like a genuine fool. She had been duping him, either willingly or not, ever since she arrived. Considering the tales the woman had been spouting, he had no problem believing that she was nothing more than a patient who'd escaped a mental ward. Or possibly just a compulsive liar. Either way, that at least was something solid. And it was also far more probable than him actually being somehow snatched from a video game.

"These men are here to help you." he replied. "I think it's best if you just go with them."

"A smart man." the mysterious stranger concurred.

"_Please_!" the witch implored desperately. "I have not come this far only to see you ripped away from me so easily."

Derrick let out a groan. "Fine." he said. "If giving you one more chance puts an end to this, I'll do it."

"Very well." the witch agreed. "Who among you has paper and something to write with?"

One of the men reached into his breast pocket and withdrew a small notepad and a pen, which he handed to Morrigan. She snatched them from his hand and flipped the notepad open and wrote a single word on the page before tearing it off and folding the paper up. "Name your eldest." she said.

Derrick was starting to feel frustrated by the entire situation. He'd let this woman dupe him, and yet he still couldn't turn her away before honoring her final request. "I don't know what this has to do with anything. I can't even have kids." he replied.

"Please, just do it." the witch pleaded again, this time with more urgency in her voice.

It was a strange question she asked, to be sure. Derrick had known he was nearly sterile for years. There was no way he had any children, let alone children with a woman he'd just met the day before. Still, there was one word that immediately popped into his head. What was even more odd, was the confidence behind the word, as if it was a word he'd been intimately familiar with for a long time, though he wasn't aware of it until just this moment.

"Seth." he answered

The witch's eyes beamed brightly and her jaw dropped open at his answer. She began to unfold the paper and show him what she'd written on it, but the mysterious stranger snatched the paper out of her hand and crumpled it up before she could.

"We're wasting time. We need to go." he said, throwing the paper on the ground as his men forcefully put their hands on the witch and started to drag her away. She fought against them as best she could, but they were large and she was small. In the end, they managed to pull her through the gate and stuff her inside the black SUV in the back, all while she furiously kicked, screamed, and called for Derrick to stop them.

As the men struggled with the woman, Derrick eyed the small piece of paper that had been cast to the ground. His curiosity compelled him to pick it up, unwrap its twisted form, and read what she had written. On it there was but a single word scrawled in her rather unladylike script. It read _Seth_.

He stared at it for a few seconds while the engines of the SUVs cranked and revved up. Nothing about any of this added up. He had no reason to think anything the raven-haired woman told him was true at all. But there was a feeling that gnawed at his gut that just wouldn't subside. She walked into his life and started to tell the most unbelievable tale. What's more, there was coincidence after coincidence that supported what she was saying. Now, she seemingly was able to read his mind and guess the exact word he would say.

Despite everything, he realized he didn't want the men to take the crazy woman. He wasn't even sure exactly why, only that he felt compelled to save her from the men in suits who had come to claim her. Compelled wasn't even the proper way to describe what Derrick felt. To him, it was more like a deep need. He _had_ to stop the men from taking her. He didn't know why he felt it, but it was as if he was her protector and he'd played the savior on more than one occasion.

Without really thinking things through, Derrick bolted out through the still-open gate and raced toward the black SUV that held the witch. The driver gave him an odd glance as he watched Derrick run around to the passenger side in the back and reach for the door latch. The driver realized what was happening a split second too late as he tried to lock the door before Derrick had time to open it. He popped the back door open, reached in, and grabbed Morrigan by the arm. The look on her face indicated that she wasn't nearly as shocked to see him as he was about rescuing her. It was as if she almost expected it to some degree, and she gave a look to him that said _'Tis about time you came to your senses_.

With a stiff yank, he pulled her from the vehicle and she tumbled unceremoniously to the ground. The mysterious man in the back seat seemed just as surprised by Derrick's actions as he was himself. But what the man did next changed everything. The scenario went from merely keeping a woman from being taken to something far more deadly, as the man reached under his jacket and pulled a large black handgun from within and aimed the end of the barrel straight at Derrick's face.

"Uh uh uh." he said, wagging his finger in the air. "Your days of playing hero are over. I suggest you step back and walk away."

Instantly, Derrick froze in his spot and his hands went into the air. "Hey, now!" he exclaimed, "just take it easy."

The mysterious stranger smiled in agreement. "That's right. Nothing hasty. Just back away and soon all of this will be nothing more than a vague memory."

Derrick looked to see the doors on the vehicle in the front opening. If he was going to save this woman he needed to do so now. He was out of time. He cast his eyes down at the witch who was still lying where he tossed her. "Do you trust me?" he asked softly.

The witch, recognizing her warden's stare that she'd seen a hundred times when faced with similar trouble, shot back a look in return and quickly nodded, saying "always." as she did.

Moving more quickly than he thought he was even capable of, Derrick reached out and slammed the door as fast and hard as he could. His hope was that the stranger wouldn't fire his weapon inside his own vehicle. His risk paid off as the mysterious man instead rapidly hopped out the other side. But those few precious seconds gave Derrick time to act. Before the men in the other SUV could storm out of their vehicle, he grabbed the witch by the hand and pulled her up. "Run!" he shouted.

The pair raced off away from the SUVs and toward his own car. As they ran, Derrick whistled for Leo, who charged through the gate and easily caught up with the escaping couple. When they reached Derrick's car, he pulled the passenger door open and gave the witch a not-so-gentle shove, pushing her into the passenger seat. Leo bounded behind her into the back seat without his master having to give any commands. It was like the beast was aware of what was happening and knew they were making a run for it.

The driver's door opened and Derrick hopped in, key already in hand. He jabbed the key into the ignition and gave it a forceful twist as the engine roared to life. The parking brake was released and he dumped the clutch, spinning the wide tires in the gravel as the car tore out the driveway. The pursuers had all drawn weapons by this time and began to discharge them. The witch and her warden were greeted with a series of loud pops that rang out as the assailants did their best to immobilize Derrick's car and halt their escape.

The attackers, while landing several shots near the undercarriage, missed their mark, as Derrick and the witch sped out of the long driveway and onto the road, all while pushing his car to its limits and furiously shifting gears in an attempt to gain as much speed as rapidly as he could.

"Shit!" the stranger fumed as he lowered his weapon. "After them!"

The men raced back into their vehicles and slammed the doors shut. Both SUVs tore down the driveway after Derrick and his companion.

The old country road was far from a smooth one and all three vehicles bounced about on the rough and bumpy surface. Unfortunately for Derrick, while his car was fast and agile, it wasn't made for such surfaces and he was having some trouble keeping it stable without veering off into the ditch.. The small lead he had on the mysterious stranger and his men quickly evaporated, as they were in vehicles that were far better suited to such conditions and held the road with ease.

The two large SUVs orchestrated a maneuver that was designed to cut him off and force his car to the side of the road. One of them managed to curl around Derrick on the outside and get in front of he and the witch while the other SUV pulled alongside and held its position there. But the road ahead ended in a 'T' intersection with the main highway and the lead SUV was very quickly running out of room. Derrick saw the brake lights on the rear light up and the twinkle of the sun against metal as the beast veered hard to the right; white smoke spewing from the locked tires. In that split-second, Derrick slammed the shifter into a lower gear, which made the engine scream with torque and power. He pulled hard on the wheel and stomped the accelerator to the floor. The back-end of the car broke loose and swung wide as Derrick skillfully slid the car through the sliver of space between the two behemoths and into the clear.

Once his tires met the much smoother roadway, he was able to let his car do what it was designed for. Although his expensive muscle car was floundering about wildly on the old country road, on the newer pavement of the main highway raw power and graceful handling took over. The mysterious stranger and his men were soon nothing more than distant dots in the rear-view mirror.

Derrick couldn't contain himself and let out an excited "Whoo! That was intense!" almost as if a large portion of himself was having a good time.

"As ever, you fail to take the situation seriously." the witch chided.

Derrick looked over and was met with a stern seriousness in Morrigan's glare. "We've no time for games." she said. "Tell me, have you even a plan at all?"

"I'm sorta making it up as I go along." he admitted. "We'll follow the road into town and figure it out from there."

"Of course you have no plan." she moaned. "You do realize those men will come after us. I've a feeling that those who possess such strange weapons and machinery will not be deterred so easily."

She was right, of course, and Derrick knew it. But why would armed men come storming onto his property in the first place? They claimed to be after the woman. But even more curious was how the leader acted towards Derrick, like the two had met before. As far as he was aware, he'd never seen the man before in his entire life. What had started as a crazy woman showing up at his doorstep had suddenly turned into something a great deal bigger, and a great deal more deadly.

With a quick look down at his gauges Derrick said, "We'll have to stop and get gas ahead. Then we can figure out our next move."

"Get gas?" the witch asked with a puzzled face. "'Tis such an odd euphemism for hunger."

Derrick couldn't help but let out a chuckle. "No, for the car. It needs fuel."

That, at least, was something Morrigan could understand, although only a small portion of it. There were a great many things about this world that she had no concept of, yet her warden appeared just as comfortable and familiar with it as though he had been around them his whole life. The witch felt that she was finally starting to understand how he felt about magic and her ability to wield it so effortlessly; how it was far beyond his comprehension. And although not entirely the same, her present surroundings did give her a reasonable insight into his viewpoint on the matter. It was probably the closest she would ever come to seeing things as he did.

It wasn't long before the pair arrived on the edge of town and he steered his shiny classic prize into the local gas station. He pulled up to the pump, killed the engine, and opened the door. As he was hoping out the car he turned to Morrigan and asked, "Do you need anything while I'm inside?"

The witch cast her eyes over to the small convenience store and peered at the many product banners on the large windows. "I have no clue what this shopkeep sells." she replied. "Bud Light, Skoal, Red Bull. These things are unfamiliar to me. What does one even purchase at a place such as this?"

Once more, a smile spread across Derrick's face. "A little bit of everything." he answered. "Are you thirsty? You want a Coke?"

"That being what, exactly?"

"Never mind. I'll surprise you. It'll be my treat." He quipped with a grin. "Stay in the car with Leo and I'll be right back." he finished as he turned about and headed into the small store.

While she waited for her warden's return, Morrigan's eyes darted around, taking in the odd and wonderful sights and sounds. She watched as one person after another went into the shop, only to return less than a minute later. Never before had the witch seen such a hustle bustle of activity. The witch thought as though these people raced through their lives from one thing to the next in such a hurry that they probably had no idea what was really going on around them. Each man and woman appeared to be lost in their own world and tied up in their own needs. Morrigan almost felt pity for them. Almost. Sometimes ignorance could be a good thing. And if rushing through one's life made a person oblivious to the turmoil and hardship all around, then they must be better for it, Morrigan reasoned. Why else would these marvelous creations exist if not to distract from the evils the real world offered.

Suddenly, the door opened and an arm was thrust out into the witch's face with some sort of white cylinder in the hand. Stuffed through the top was a smaller red cylinder. "Here you go." The Warden's voice said.

She eyed the object curiously, not knowing exactly what to do with it. "You have my thanks." she returned while she took the object from his hand. "However, what is it?"

It seemed as if Derrick was softening a bit to her ignorance about even the simplest matters. While before he would have become impatient by her feigning to not know what something was, he was starting to act more congenial. Rather than groan and bark at the woman, now he simply said, "it's your drink. Put your mouth on the straw and suck."

She did as instructed, though she was less than confident in her approach. Still, not wanting to seem ungrateful, the witch choked down her pride and obliged, however what he suggested she do did sound rather silly. So slowly Morrigan wrapped her full lips around the straw and gently sucked.

As the bubbly liquid washed over her tongue, the witch's eyes lit up. Never before had she experienced such a sensation. It was the most intense rush of sweetness and thirst-quenching goodness she'd ever felt in her life. It was as soothing as it was exhilarating. Surely it must be a gift from the old gods, themselves.

Pausing only long enough to ask, "What is this amazing drink you bring me?" the witch resumed taking large gulps and slurps of the prized liquid.

"That's a Coke." he replied with a slight laugh.

If he had to make a guess, Derrick would be forced to admit that it genuinely looked as though Morrigan was indeed experiencing a deep pleasure for the very first time. While he couldn't be positive about how other grown people who never tasted a soft drink before would react, her display seemed just like the sort of thing someone would do. "You might wanna slow down there." he cautioned.

"Why?"

He could only smile and shake his head at her child-like ignorance. "Nothing." he said as he turned the key and the engine roared to life once more.

They pulled out of the station and headed down the road towards an unknown, or rather undecided destination. Both of them were fully aware that the stranger and his men would be searching after them. The pair would have to decide on a course of action. And soon.

But the bigger question was why. Why was the man after the witch in the first place? And maybe even more importantly, why did he act as if he knew Derrick? Whatever the case was, he was now quite convinced that the mysterious man wasn't there to take Morrigan back to some hospital. That whole story was clearly a ruse to lull Derrick into believing those men were harmless and had no ulterior motives. And their plan very nearly worked.

But even with that there were more questions than answers. How did the stranger know to even look for the witch and that she would tell such a fantastic tale? While he acted as though he wasn't aware of the specifics, he did know she would tell him something outlandish.

As much as Derrick didn't want to admit it, there was no denying it. All the evidence was pointing squarely in one direction, even if Derrick thought that direction was completely absurd. But the mysterious man's appearance only added fuel to the fire. As much as Derrick didn't want to even acknowledge the possibility, there was only one reasonable explanation that made any sense at all; even if it didn't make any sense at all. Morrigan was telling the truth.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter VII**

"Mr. Priest reports he's made contact, sir." a thin, rather bland looking man reported to an important looking man sitting behind a large important looking desk. "Unfortunately, the target was able to elude Mr. Priest with the help of Mr. Cooper. He's attempting pursuit now."

"I see." the important man replied. "Thank you, James. That'll be all."

"Yes, sir." the bland man said as he gave a slight nod, turned about, and headed out of the grand office.

The important man leaned over his large desk and pressed his finger to the intercom button. "Ms. Sutton, would please get Mr. Priest on the line?"

The small speaker next to the phone replied with a woman's voice, "Yes, sir."

After no more than a minute of waiting, the voice came back through the tiny speaker. "Mr. Priest is on line one, sir." it said.

"Thank you, Ms. Sutton." the important man replied as his hand snatched the earpiece of the phone and placed it against his ear while he pressed the appropriate button with his other hand.

"James informed me that you've found the target." he said as soon as the line was live.

"That's right, sir." the voice on the other end answered, presumably Mr. Priest. "Cooper got in our way, though. They ran off in his car. But don't worry. They didn't get far. We'll find them."

"Are you aware of how much she told Mr. Cooper?"

"There's no telling how long she was with him, sir." Mr. Priest answered; his tone cold and flat. "But I would assume she told him everything. That's the impression I got, at least."

"Do you think he believed her?"

"I'm not sure. He didn't give any indications that he believed her, but at the same time, he did help her evade us. I would say, it's probably only a matter of time before she gets through to him."

"That is unfortunate, Mr. Priest." the important man informed, speaking as if his words were to have more than just one implied meaning. "Call off your search and return to headquarters. I want to see you as soon as you get back."

There was definite confusion in Mr. Priest's voice as he asked, "call off the search? I don't understand."

"It doesn't matter where they're headed, Mr. Priest. We know where they'll end up. Best to be ready for when that happens." the important man conveyed with a smoothness that comes from knowing one is in charge.

* * *

Natural. That would be the word that Derrick used to describe how he felt around the raven-haired woman. Even though he felt strange admitting such a thing to himself, there was no denying it. It was as though he'd known her for years instead of only a few hours.

What he couldn't be sure of was why he felt that way. To hear the woman tell it, they had spent the better part of a decade together. And strangely enough, that's exactly how she acted around him. For being around a strange man she'd only just met, she sure was quite comfortable. That's not how it was supposed to be was it? Derrick was unsure of the answer to his own question since he lacked any real experience in the area. Well, any experience that he could remember.

He decided it was probably not a good idea to return to his house for a few days. Even though they hadn't seen any trace of the mysterious stranger or his men, something in Derrick's gut told him that he would be seeing them sooner rather than later. So it would be best to stay away for a while.

While he'd never been on the run before, he figured it was probably best not to use his credit or debit cards since those transactions could be easily traced. Not that those who were after he and the witch had access to those sorts of things, but it was still best to play it safe. He would, however, have to use his card at least once so that he could make a withdrawal from an ATM in order to ensure he had enough cash on hand. If the men in suits could see where he used his cards, then at least it would still be close to home and they would have no idea which direction he and the witch went afterward.

It was an unexpected journey, to be sure. Neither of them where properly prepared. It didn't go unnoticed to Derrick that the golden-eyed woman appeared to be on such a journey for a good while and it was plain to see she was having trouble making do with what she had. That needed to change. If they were to successfully evade their pursuers, they would need supplies. After all, there was no telling how long he was going to be away from home and he had no intentions of parking his car in some secluded spot each night just so they could sleep.

The best plan he could come up with was to head south to the coast. There were a lot more people in a smaller region and the pair might be able to disappear among the crowd, as it were. They could find a hotel to stay at for a few nights, then return back to his place and see where things went from there. It wasn't a great plan, he admitted, but at least it was something.

After withdrawing what cash he was able, he announced his plan to Morrigan. "We'll head to the coast." he informed. "Maybe find some place in Gulfport or Biloxi for a few days to lay low. There's more people there and maybe they'll have a harder time finding us."

"I do not understand. Are we not in the lands of Bih'luxee now?" the witch asked, giving him a curious stare.

"Lands of Biloxi? What are you talking about?" he questioned in return.

"Lock told me this world you now inhabit is known as Bih'luxee. 'Twas my understanding 'tis where we are now." she replied, although now she was far less confident about what she was lead to believe.

Once more a chuckle found its way out of Derrick. If she was simply playing coy, there was a distinct charm to it he was finding harder and harder to resist. "No, Biloxi is a small city just south of here. About an hour's drive." he corrected. "There's maybe fifty or sixty thousand people there."

The witch gasped. "Sixty thousand people! And you call this a _small_ city?"

"Uh, yeah." he replied with just a thin hint of sarcasm in his voice. "Gulfport is at least twice as big and there's probably half a million people or more total along the coast."

The idea of so many people in such a small area was nearly impossible for the witch to wrap her head around. How could so many people exist together is such a small area. Would there even be enough room for all of them? Were they packed so tightly together that it was difficult to move?

"Truly there are many amazing things about this world I've not yet seen." she said.

It wasn't long before the pair arrived at what Derrick thought would be a suitable place to lie low for the next few days. It was a small motel just off the main road, and while not overly luxurious, it was quaint, clean, and would serve their needs well. As an added bonus, pets were welcome, which meant that Leo wouldn't have to be hidden from view. There was one minor problem, however. Since it was the middle of summer and tourists from all over the country had flocked to the area for their summer trips, the only room the motel had available contained a single queen-sized bed. That meant he and the new woman in his life would be sharing, whether he was comfortable with the arrangements or not.

There was some good news, though. The room was clean, at least, if not dated. But it could have been far worse. That was one item on the list he could strike off. The next could prove to be a bit riskier, as he would have to go out and procure some items. And while Derrick didn't think he would encounter the mysterious man while doing so, he was aware that security cameras would scan every square inch of whichever store he visited. If these men had to ability to know where he used his cards, then that could mean they also have access to surveillance footage if they so chose. But it was a risk that needed to be taken.

He really wasn't comfortable leaving the witch by herself with Leo, but seeing as she would stick out like a sore thumb, the less attention he was able to draw to himself, the better.

"I shouldn't be gone too long." he said as he grabbed his keys from off the small table by the door. "I'm only getting a few things we need then I'm coming right back."

The witch cast him a rather displeased stare. "And what exactly do you intend me to do in the meantime? Am I to do nothing and simply await your return?" she asked with a hiss. "Whether 'tis here or Ferelden, you always seem to find a way to leave me behind."

He got the idea that she was implying they'd had this same argument many times before. But now wasn't the time for it. The sooner he left, the sooner he could do what needed to be done and get back. At least that's how he saw it. She apparently saw things differently.

"I promise I'll be back as soon as I can." he said as he tried his best to assure her. "To the store and right back. That's it."

As the words left his mouth, a small voice in the faintest part of his head spoke to him. It was a voice that had possibly been there before, but he failed to notice it if it had been. For whatever reason, it chose to cry out more forcefully this time. Perhaps it was simply making sure he heard it this time. _She's trying to tell you that she's worried about you, you moron, _it said.

For some reason that even he couldn't explain, he decided to heed to voice's words. He stared straight into her large golden eyes, which he now noticed were full of a worry that he hadn't noticed before, and said as seriously and convincingly as he could manage, "look, you don't have to worry about me. I go to the store all the time . It's no big deal."

"You've not had strange men chasing you before." she countered.

"I'll be fine. I promise."

Morrigan reached out her hands and took his. She gently caressed the backs of his hands with her thumbs as she spoke. "You said those same words to me four years ago, and now here we are."

"Unlike then, I know exactly what I'm going after and where to find it." The Warden replied without fully realizing the words he said. They just sort of flowed out of him. "Thirty minutes. No more."

"And if you fail to return in that time?" she asked softly while her gaze dropped to the floor. "What am I to do, then?"

His hand reached under her chin and gently prodded her eyes back to his. "Then take Leo and track me down. He knows my scent." His answer was more to calm the witch's nerves rather than offer any real course of action. Leo was a well-trained dog, but he was unsure if the beast would actually be able to do as he suggested.

Morrigan seemed to find his response suitable enough. Even if it wasn't an answer she fully embraced, at least it was something. "Thirty minutes. I have your word." she said.

When he was finally able to leave his witch, Derrick hopped into his car and made the short drive to the local super mart. They would need bathroom items such as toothpaste and shampoo and he thought it might be a good idea to grab several extra items of clothes for both he and the witch. While he would prefer to have clean clothes to change into for himself, he thought it might be best if she looked a little less conspicuous. Her high leather boots, leather skirt, and skimpy top would certainly draw attention anywhere the pair went.

The hardest part was guessing her size. She was thin and elegant, for sure, but she did have wide hips and a rather pronounced posterior. In addition, she was also quite chesty for her small frame. Her breasts were a D cup at the least. Not that he was any sort of expert on the issue. He reasoned that he probably had no chance at guessing what size bra she wore, but there was a way around that problem. A bikini top should serve as an adequate analog. That and purchasing swimwear was far less unsettling to him than looking for a brassiere. And since it was summer and they were close to the ocean, there was no shortage of items for him to select from.

There was one item he would have to force himself to buy, however. Bikini bottoms were no replacement for regular underwear, and he was certain she didn't have any with her. It might have been creepy to him, and possibly anyone else who saw him make the purchase, but at least he was reasonably sure what size to get.

He made his way around the store as quickly as he could; zig zagging back and forth down the isles as he thought to grab one item after another as it sprang into his head. He would need deodorant and she might want a hairbrush. And of course he couldn't forget the beer. Before long he had his cart loaded with most of the things he thought he and his companion would need to survive their hopefully brief exile.

As Derrick was making his way to the front of the store to pay for his items, he spied one last item. It was a surprise that he was pretty sure the witch would enjoy. He would return well within the allotted amount of time and she would feel silly for making such a fuss.

Upon returning to the motel, Derrick snatched the overflowing bags from the rear of his car and headed toward the door. As he neared it, an icy jolt shot through his veins. From behind the door he could hear what sounded like loud static. The television in the room hadn't been switched on before he left, so he knew it wasn't him. _Someone needed background noise to cover their actions_ was the first thought that leaped into his brain.

A panic washed over him and dropped the bags. His hands darted to his pockets in search of the room key. He was finding it harder to unlock the door than it should have been, but his excited hands wouldn't cooperate. Finally, he was able to undo the latch and the door swung open. What he saw made his blood run cold.

The TV had indeed been turned on, with the volume all the way up. The channel had been switched to an unused station and the static echoed off the hard sheet rock walls. On the screen, Derrick could make out the cable channel guide and the TV remote rested on the floor beneath the dresser the television sat upon.

Leo lie in front of the bathroom door, which was closed tight. When he saw his master, the hound's head perked up and his tail began to wag furiously. Leo hopped up and jogged over to Derrick, the large dog's head nuzzling against his master in greeting.

"Good boy, Leo." Derrick whispered to the dog as he gave a good rub.

He turned his attention toward the closed door to the bathroom. "Morrigan?" he called out.

An annoyed sounding response came from the other side. "Dwemer, is that you? Would you please silence that infernal racket?"

He picked the remote off the carpeted floor and pressed an single button. Instantly the TV went dark and quiet. "You can come out now. It's safe." he joked. "The TV isn't going to eat you."

The knob on the door turned and the door swung wide, revealing the witch who looked rather frazzled and incensed. "How was I to know what purpose that infernal device served?" she hissed as she emerged from her self-induced confines. "I was merely curious."

The only thing Derrick could do in response was chuckle and shake his head. Of course she wouldn't have any clue how a television remote worked. How could she? She was probably not even aware what the small device with it's many buttons was used for at all. It was almost like the time he had to help her out of the fancy dress she wore to her hearing at the chantry. Leliana had fastened it so tightly, the poor witch thought she might be trapped in it forever. But with one quick tug of his fingers, he undid the knot and the dress slid right off. She was less than amused by his teasing of her about the entire situation.

Wait. What? Where did that thought come from and why was it there? It was like a vivid memory of some one else's life just ran through his head. All the woman's talk must have started playing tricks on his mind, he thought. She was so beautiful and he was so strongly attracted to her that his mind was trying to convince itself that what she was saying was true. That had to be it. There was no way it was a real memory. That would just be insane.

The strange mental struggle her warden was having did not go unnoticed by Morrigan. "Are you well, my love?" she asked.

"Me?" he replied, trying to sound casual and cool. "Oh, yeah. I'm good."

Just then he remembered the bags of items he bought still laying outside the motel door. "I got you a little surprise." he said as he retrieved the items from outside. "If earlier was any indication, I think you'll really like it."

"Oh, and what might that be?" the witch asked, her curiosity piqued.

He reached into one of the bags and pulled out the prize. It was still cold and droplets of dew had formed on the outside from the warm, humid air. "Here you go." he said as he handed her a bottle of dark liquid.

"I suppose thanks are in order. 'Twas nice of you to consider me." she said, trying to be polite as she stared at the bottle, unsure of what the contents where.

"It's a Coke, you silly witch." he said with a laugh.

Upon hearing his words, her eyes instantly lit up. "The same beverage as before?"

"The same." he confirmed as he reached out his hand to twist the top and free the bubbly contents inside. "Let me help you with that." he said as he did.

Morrigan turned the bottle up and took a long satisfying drink. A sigh of deep pleasure escaped her lips afterward. If there was anything that made her time in this dreadful place worthwhile, the darkened liquid contained in the clear bottle would be it.

As he began to empty the other bags out onto the bed, he said, "I got you a few other things too. I wasn't sure what to get. I hope they fit."

Morrigan looked down at the odd assortment of items the cluttered the bed. While thy were things she recognized, they were not of a fashion that she could ever see herself wearing. But she had been wearing the same clothes for weeks, and they no doubt stunk horribly by this point. Even if he didn't have an eye for style, at least his heart was in the right place.

"You are right, of course." she agreed, although he made no statement for her to agree with. Not openly anyway.

"Right about what?"

"I must smell horrid." she clarified. "I am indeed in need of a bath. 'Tis small wonder you never mentioned it sooner."

"It's not that bad." he offered, trying to be courteous.

"You are simply trying to be sweet. Still, 'tis probably best if I make use of the tub."

Her eyes scanned the items tossed out onto the bed. She grabbed several of the ones she thought most reasonable, although she was unsure about the rest. Her free hand tumbled through the assembled items, sifting through them this way and that. There was one last item she was sure she needed but didn't see anything that resembled what she was after.

Noticing his witch's dilemma, Derrick asked, "what are you looking for?"

If the thing she wanted was indeed there, Morrigan had no way of knowing what it looked like in this infernal land. Here, even the simplest of things could be remarkably different. She was embarrassed by her ignorance. "A razor." she finally asked after forcing herself to swallow her pride.

He smiled at her. To him her behavior was endearing and cute. She found his response insufferable. As always, in her quest for perfection, he was there to point out her many flaws.

He reached for her desired object and tore it from the plastic sheath that held it. If what he held was truly a razor, it was unlike any she'd ever seen. There did seem to be two small blades contained inside it, though, so she felt it unwise to doubt him. He held it in his hand and moved it up and down through the air, demonstrating its use. "Like this." he said as he pretended to shave the air.

"I know full well how to use a razor." she spat back. "Still, you have my thanks."

The witch took her items and made for the small bathroom, closing the door behind her as she went in. Derrick figured he probably had a good while to wait before it was his turn, so he calmly grabbed the TV remote from where he left it before and pressed the 'on' button.

Almost immediately the room was filled with the loud static that was blaring before. His thumb desperately sought the volume button, but it seemed as though the device refused to acknowledge his commands. Finally the loudness began to quiet and the static subsided to a more tolerable level. With a few more button presses, he began surfing through the channels in search of anything interesting to watch.

Again the bathroom door swung open. He assumed the witch was bothered by the noise and was checking to see if all was well. Instead, he was greeted by something entirely unexpected.

She had undone her long, flowing locks from their confines and the silken strands of dark hair hung loosely about her shoulders. There was something about it that made her appear almost wild. It was hard to tell how long her hair really was since she always kept it tightly twirled up in a bun. Yet even this slight change made a remarkable difference.

She had clearly disrobed, as Derrick could see the pale skin of her neck and shoulders that poked out from behind the door. And as inviting as it was, Derrick forced himself to remain stoic. There was a troubled look on her face. Clearly she needed assistance.

"Might I trouble you for help." she requested sheepishly.

"What do you need?"

"How do you work this damnedable contraption?" she huffed, clearly dismayed at something.

He tossed the remote to the side and walked over to the bathroom door. His intention was to simply tell her how to operate the controls for the tub, but what she did took him completely by surprise. When he neared her, she opened the door fully and allowed him to see her total nakedness. It wasn't something he was expecting and it nearly knocked him off his feet. He tried to play cool, but found he was failing miserably.

"Wow!" he muttered.

The witch smiled and giggled, clearly pleased at the impact her naked form had on him. "Do not act so surprised." she quipped. "After all, you were always quite fond of saying that you had seen me naked more times than I had seen myself."

"And I bet I had the same reaction every time." he countered.

Morrigan smiled and nodded. "Indeed you did, my love."

He tried his best to show her how the shower worked, although her glorious form standing so close to him made it more difficult than it otherwise would have been. After much fumbling, however, he was finally able to get the shower to a decent temperature so that the witch could use it.

Morrigan was impressed by what she saw. "'Tis like a warm summer's rain." she noted.

Derrick thought it might be best if he left the witch to do what she needed, unless of course he planned on making a bigger fool of himself. Although part of him got the impression that Morrigan wouldn't have minded. To have the same affect on him after all these years brought a wide smile to her face. As he left her alone to clean herself, he noticed the wry grin that refused to leave her lips. There was something very seductive about it, like she had a secret that she was dying to share with him, but he would have to earn it.

It was though she could read the thoughts in his brain, as she said, "soon, my love. When you can remember who you truly are, then you shall have me."

He started to say that he hoped that would be much sooner rather than later, but decided that might not be the best thing he could do. Instead, he simply nodded and left her to her shower. As much as he found her mesmerizing, he knew she was probably right. Now was not the time for wanton actions simply out of lust. If things were meant to be, it had to come naturally.

He waited outside the bathroom until she finished. She looked like a woman that was revitalized and reborn. Apparently even those from backward primitive lands liked to feel civilized and nothing quite achieved that like a long, hot shower. There wasn't really anything else that could make one feel as human.

After he was given his chance to clean up, which took far less time than the witch had, both of them climbed into the single bed for the night. Derrick found that he wasn't nearly as uncomfortable with lying next to the dark-haired woman as he feared he might be. To the contrary, he found it to be rather soothing. Any notions he had that Morrigan was some crazy person left his thoughts entirely. Now she was simply someone who needed his help; and there was the small fact that he was more and more attracted to her with each passing minute.

As the two lie there in the bed, he pondered many things. He allowed himself to consider that she might actually be telling the truth, even though he knew that was nothing more than a fantasy. Still, it was fun to think about. There was one thing, though, that he hadn't really thought about before. It was a question that he suddenly wanted the have answered very much.

"How did you find me?" he asked. "After you got here, I mean. You said it took you weeks."

She turned to face him and said, "That is truly a strange tale indeed."


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter VIII**

Morrigan had no real idea what she was jumping into as she hurled herself into the strange portal that led to some unknown land. But upon arriving in this new world, not even her wildest imaginings could have properly prepared her for what she saw. Everywhere she looked, she saw taller buildings than she could have dreamed possible, and each was adorned with mysterious lights that glowed so brightly it was as if night had been turned into day.

The roads where crammed full with odd vehicles that rolled along on odd wheels. Loud noises and music blared out into the air from all directions. While the witch was familiar with the fancy and complicated machinery of the dwarves, the sights her eyes drew in put even the grandest of constructions in Orzammar to shame. But perhaps weirdest of all were the people that inhabited this place.

None of the clothes they wore were of any recognizable fashion or style. It seemed as if both women and men wore similar shirts and pants, although a few women did choose to adorn themselves in dresses and skirts, which was something the witch was far more accustomed to seeing. Still, she found herself thinking how strange it was to see so many women and young girls wearing pants. In Thedas, woman who wore such attire were generally in the military or something similar. Morrigan was quite aware that local custom generally dictated what clothing was warn by whom and when. In her mind, these people must have some very outlandish customs, indeed.

However, the witch could not afford to waste time gawking at what she saw. She was on a mission and needed to locate her warden as swiftly as possible. Judging by what she saw, Morrigan reasoned that her task shouldn't prove to be a difficult one. In a land such as this, he would stand out as much as she and should therefore prove easy to locate. Even if Malachi was able to do something horrible to him, her warden had ever been resourceful and had no doubt left her a trail to follow. Once she was able to decipher what the first clue was, the rest should fall into place quite easily. After all, he did want Morrigan to find him. Why else would he have sent Lock to her doorstep?

The very first thing to figure out was which way The Warden had gone. Very quickly, Morrigan realized that her love probably couldn't have traveled to the south because there was a large body of water. Whether it was an ocean or a great sea, the witch couldn't be certain. But she was aware that her warden was no sailor. No matter which world he now inhabited, there were certain facts about him that weren't going to change, and that was one of them. That left her with three other possibilities. Not great, but it did at least narrow her search down a little. If she could whittle it down to a more exact direction, the witch was sure her love would have left her clues to draw her in the rest of the way.

But even in that there was a problem. Morrigan had no idea where to even begin looking. So she did the only thing she could think to do. The witch began wandering from person to person and asking them if they'd seen her love. It wasn't perfect, but it was a start. She watched how people looked at her and figured that they would have done the same with him. So she approached random people asked if any of them knew anything about her warden. The witch was so focused on her task that she failed to notice how out of character it was for her to do it. If The Warden could have seen her meandering to and fro and asking this person or that if they'd seen him, he surely would have teased her relentlessly about it.

It didn't take long for the witch to realize that her plan wasn't going as well as she hoped. For starters, it was quite hard to make out nearly everything these people were telling her. Whatever dialect they were speaking, it was one she was having a hard time grasping. The accents she heard were unlike anything she'd ever encountered before. It was as though these people shoved rocks into their mouths before they tried to speak. It was almost impossible to understand most of what they said. On top of that, when Morrigan was able to pick out a few words here and there, they offered her little help. What the witch thought would take but a few short hours was dragging on into days of fruitless searching.

"Pardon me, good sir." she would ask a passing man. "Could I trouble you for a bit of help?"

"Yer not from 'round here, are ya?" was the response she usually received.

"No, I am not." she would reply, confirming the obvious. "I was, however, wondering if you might be able to assist me find someone."

"I reckon I can try, pretty lady."

"I am in search of a man." she would go on to explain. "Someone who seems as out of place as I do."

"Hell, the way these kids dress anymore, with their green hair and all those holes in their heads, there's a lot of people like that."

"The person I am looking for is a man. A large man in his forties. He as long brown hair tied back and a neatly trimmed beard."

"Sounds like a biker. You try over at the biker bar?" the people would usually tell her. "There's one over yonder, north of the tracks."

"I am unsure where exactly a 'yonder' is." she would often say, to which the other person would just point in a general direction and go about their business, leaving Morrigan no better off than when she started.

Eventually the witch began to appreciate Lock's difficulty. He said it had taken him two years to find Highever and locate her. At first, she thought he was just being ridiculous, but having now experienced something similar for herself, she was able to see why it had taken him so long. If he was indeed from this land, as he said he might be, then there was every reason to think he would be just a lost in Ferelden as she was in this new place. He, however, was clearly not of a sound mind. The witch hoped that fact alone would allow her to find her warden in much less time than Lock found her.

But after many fruitless days of searching and coming up empty, the witch decided it might be time to change tactics and try a different approach. Instead of aimlessly asking random people if they had any information about her warden, she thought it might be better if she tried to use her intimate knowledge of him to her advantage. After all, she did know him better than even his own brother. It might be best to make use of such information.

She tried to put herself in The Warden's position, which, given the circumstances, wasn't all too hard. Where would he go and what would he do? Was he being held against his will, or was he simply cast into this unusual place and left to his own devices? Knowing him as she did, Morrigan figured both scenarios would invariably lead to the same place.

Given who he was and what he'd accomplished, there were many times his foes sought to capture or imprison him. They were even successful on several occasions. But The Warden was always able to find a way to escape their grasp and cause his enemies defeat. The witch knew he would have probably done the same thing in this instance as well. That was one personality trait about him she could almost always count on. But there was another defining part to his personality that could prove to be even more useful.

Wherever he and his witch went, her warden was always involving himself in the troubles of others. At first she found the practice to be irritating and annoying. No matter how important his current mission was, he would always make time to help those around him. It wasn't long before there was a large group of people who were indebted to her warden in one fashion or another.

After witnessing his kindness on many occasions, Morrigan was forced to admit that was simply who we was. He didn't do it for glory or for fame. The Warden simply liked helping others who were in need. It was his actions that showed her that not everyone would exploit another for some sort of gain. It was one of the hardest lessons she had to learn living in his world, but that single lesson, perhaps more than any other, opened the witch up to the possibility that he may have been right about a great many things she was resistant to.

She thought the best place to start was with those who were probably the worst off. The dregs and cast-offs of society, or other such people who were often in the lowest parts of the pecking order, might be the sort of people he would gravitate towards. Even if his own circumstances were dire, Morrigan had never known her warden to turn away someone in genuine need of his aid.

As with any place where people dwelt, it didn't take the witch long to find downtrodden souls who hid among the shadows of the tall buildings. Many of them were not sane and offered her no real help, but a few proved to be most helpful. It was difficult at first, but with effort, she was able to get a few of the wretched souls to open up to her.

They were distrustful of outsiders, but to the homeless and needy, Morrigan was one of them. Many of them had been taken advantage of or were mistreated by those with better means. They were often accused of one crime or another, and while some of it was true, some of it wasn't. But such petty contrivances didn't matter to the normal people. In their eyes, all who lived on the street were little more than thugs and criminals who spent their days begging for a handout and stealing what they couldn't get from freeloading. The result of such a line of thought was a deep divide between the people who hid from view and those who had a place to call home.

The witch instantly gained her status among the nobility of the homeless the instant she arrived in this new world. After all, no one could be one of _them_ if they went around asking about phantom people dressed as she was. Better still, the witch was forced to spend her nights in some secluded corner in some random dark alley, just as the street dwellers were. She had been seen by those who roamed the streets and they knew of her actions. And when she spoke to them, they answered.

What Morrigan discovered proved to be very helpful, although not at first. After speaking with several of the forgotten people, she was able to learn that there were, in fact, several people who went out of their way to help those less fortunate than themselves. There were even entire organizations dedicated to helping the homeless and putting them on more solid footing. Each small clue led her in a different direction, which would be explored until it ran its course and she would have to start again elsewhere. It might not have seemed like it to the outside observer, but the witch knew she was making progress. Somewhere amongst these poor souls, someone had to have seen or heard something about her love. The witch was sure of it.

Then, after almost giving up, Morrigan finally found the vital clue she had been searching for. There had been a man whose kindness to those on the street was well known by all who lived there. He treated the homeless and downtrodden like they were actually people and not just shadows against a wall to only be seen out of the corner of one's eye. They called him Mr. Derrick. And to those who used street curbs as a pillow, he was a saint. Morrigan was sure the man the people spoke of and her warden were one and the same.

Mr. Derrick lived in a small community to the north, she was told. All she had to do was find the main road and follow it until she came to the first largest hill and then head west. There were so few people in that area that the residents were bound to know who he was. Any of them should be able to point her straight to him.

So the witch set out to the north, confident that she was finally on the right path. The journey was far from easy, however, as the unrelenting heat made every step more difficult than the last. Fortunately, Morrigan did encounter several creeks and streams as she made her way northward. Each small ribbon of water that wound through the thick forest was a much-needed reprieve from the scorching sun, and she took the time to enjoy each of them as long as she was able. It wasn't the chance to bathe and relax as she would like, but at least it was something. And the waters were cool and refreshing.

After walking many miles along the road, Morrigan spotted what must have been the hill she was told about. It clearly rose above all others nearby. It was the greatest sight she had seen in a good long while. Her heart beat excitedly in her chest and her spirits lifted knowing that she was close to her goal. Someone nearby must surely know where this Mr. Derrick could be found and how Morrigan might find him. And when she finally did find her warden, she was going to give him a stern lecture for making her go through all of this.

* * *

"Once I arrived in the general area, 'twas quite simple after that. All I had to do was inquire as to your whereabouts to one of the locals and they set me on the right path." Morrigan informed, finishing her story.

Derrick took a few moments to process everything he heard her say. He was half waiting for the parts where she would describe some magical and adventurous journey, though no such tale ever came. However, that was probably due in part to his continued reluctance to believe in her. Though that was most likely because his rationale and sane self was still looking for straws to grasp at, and finding fewer and fewer to cling to.

In reality, what she said made perfect sense. He was known by many to aid those less fortunate than himself and had seen the same faces smiling back at him as he handed out a meal here, some spare change there, or just took the time to notice and talk to a person that few others would have willingly noticed. There was every reason to think that if the witch knew him as well as she claimed that she would be able to use his generous habits to track him down.

All he could think to do was ask, "you walked all the way to my house from Biloxi?"

"I did." Morrigan replied solidly.

"That must have been miserable. As hot as it is and as thick as these woods are." he noted. "Did you stay outside the entire time, or did you find someplace for shelter?"

The witch gave a soft sigh and shook her head slightly. "You forget how many nights you and I have spent under the stars, my love." she said in a voice that was half remembering and half disappointed that he could not. "I am no fragile thing, although, you have often treated me otherwise."

"I never treated you like you were fragile. I just never wanted to see you get hurt." he blurted back without realizing his words. It was almost as if another part of him was speaking; like a casual reflex or muscle memory.

And while he failed to notice what he was saying, Morrigan did not. "Did you now?" she asked as a wry grin formed across her lips.

In an instant, the realization of what he said set in. "Wait...What's going on here?" he muttered while his mind continued to try to grasp what exactly was happening. "Why do I know that? How do you know things about me? What the hell is going on?"

Morrigan's only answer was to stare at him silently. She knew her warden well and she was aware that she had done all she could, the rest was up to him. He would have to make the final leap all on his own. But she would be waiting there on the other side when he did.

Ever since this strange woman came into his life, everything had been turned upside down. It seemed as though she knew things about him the he didn't even know himself. Her weird words and mannerism were too outlandish to be an act. Then there were the flashes of another life; someone else's life. He clearly remembered things that never happened. Or did they? He couldn't even be sure at this point. And why would the mysterious stranger and his men be after the golden-eyed woman? It just didn't make any sense. There was only one possible answer.

"It's true, isn't it? It's all true." he said as he turned to face her. "Everything you said."

Morrigan's hand reached out and clutched his to give a good squeeze. "Yes, my love. 'Tis all true."

"But it can't be!" he shot back, still resisting. "Do you have any idea what you're saying? What that means?"

"I do."

"_I'm_ the Grey Warden! How insane is that?" he said, his hands accentuating his words as he spoke. "Everything that happened in that damn game is _real_ and I'm him! I killed the Archdemon. I saved Ferelden."

The Warden's hand went to caress his witch's cheek as his eyes met hers. "And you..." he said, "you are real; so amazingly and beautifully real."

Morrigan's hand gently held her warden's hand to her cheek. She drank in the feel of him. She had waited so long that, whether he was whole or not, she relished the feeling of his skin against hers. "I am real." she said softly.

The Warden's eyes suddenly filled with softness and sorrow. "Why can't I remember you?" he asked. "It's like trying to look through a fog. I can feel something there. I know it's there. I just can't see it."

"Malachi did something to you. I know not what." Morrigan informed as the pair sat there in the motel room, eyes locked on one another and hands entwined. "Lock said that he was the first, although it didn't work."

"The first what?"

"Some sort of procedure, although to what end, I can only guess. But 'twould seem that Malachi's intentions were clear. If he could remove the Hero of Ferelden from the field of play, his chances of success would greatly increase. However, I've no clue as to his true motives about why he wished you out of the way."

Whether he believed all of this nonsense or not was irrelevant. The Warden found himself suddenly being pulled in a direction he didn't even know existed just two short days ago. Not only did it seem like the entire world was conspiring to push him off of some crazy cliff, but his own body as well. Maybe it was best just to go with the flow and see where it all led. If he was being pushed so forcefully in a specific direction, then why fight against it? At the very worst, it bought him more time with the witch, he thought.

And that was the real conundrum, wasn't it? He was slowly realizing that was his real goal; to be with her. The things he said or did were becoming all about Morrigan. When he first saw her, he was sure that he knew her from somewhere before. She felt so familiar to him in so many ways. But after some time together, he was starting to learn that it was more than that. It was as though something was asleep within him, or possibly buried, and it was now waking up. He likened the feeling to a body part that had fallen asleep. At first, the affected limb is simply numb and useless, but as it recovers, there is a distinct tingling sensation that is impossible to ignore. It can be quite unsettling at times.

And if he always belonged to her, and she to him, then it felt as though the universe was attempting to correct itself after some misstep. Whatever the case was, all he knew was that he couldn't bare the thought of not being around her. So that left him with one obvious question.

"So where does that leave us?" he asked. "Where do we go from here?"

Morrigan understood that there was more meaning to what he said that just words. Finally he'd made a genuine breakthrough into reclaiming who he was. After so many nights of worrying about him and all those years of sleeping in their bed by herself, she was on the cusp of having him back. It had been her singular focus for so long that she couldn't even remember that last time she actually thought about something else. Day after day of just going through the motions until her love would, at last, return to her, had defined the witch for so long. It had become who she was and all she knew. But now, the only man she ever loved, the man who gave her everything, was starting to break through and resurface. Her nightmare was finally nearing its end.

'We go home, my love." the witch said, as her voice cracked heavily from the sudden and intense onslaught of emotions.

After fighting to say even those few words, the witch succumb to the years of anxiety and stress that she had buried for all that time. She dove against his chest, wrapped her arms around her warden, and began to sob deeply into his bosom. The Warden did as he had always done and closed his large arms around her small frame to hold her tightly against him. He allowed her to vent all her sorrows into him so that he could take them from her and she would never have to feel the pain again.


End file.
